Have a Drink, Sweetheart
by Ellana-san
Summary: Collection of tumblr hayffie prompts that I was asked for. You can leave me one at ellanainthetardis
1. Not Jealous

Hello! So I'm taking hayffie prompts on tumblr (ellanainthetardis) and I thought it would be easier to put them all in the same place, so here I gave you my collection of prompts, beta-read by the lovely Akachankami.

Original prompt : "could you write one where some capitol woman is hitting on haymitch and effie gets very jealous and the whole team obviously notice it?"

**Not Jealous**

Peeta hobbled after Effie, cursing District One Mayor's house with its numerous staircases and meandering corridors. The place was such a labyrinth it took entirely too long to go from one specific room to another and his bad leg was protesting by duly aching. Katniss and he had been separated to conduct different interviews and he was anxious to see her again, afraid that what had transpired in Eleven would happen again there. He was loose to let her out of his sight those days. Haymitch was with her, though, since Effie had stayed with him, and she should technically be safe.

He was relieved when they saw her sitting on the ground, in front of the door to the living-room where her interview took place. She scrambled up before Effie could reprimand her. He felt her eyes assessing him, making sure he was okay. Clearly, she was as uneasy as he was about the whole thing.

"What are you doing here, Katniss?" Effie asked, frowning. "Where's Haymitch?"

"In here." Katniss nodded to the living-room. "She wanted to interview him too. Something about a complementary piece… " She rolled her eyes and Peeta smiled at her in amusement. She wasn't a people person.

"Well, she should have asked first." Effie huffed. "This Aquilia… She thinks the world revolves around her. We will be off-schedule."

She made a move towards the door but Katniss stepped in her way. "Haymitch said he didn't want to be disturbed."

Really _not_ a people person.

"Not to be disturbed?" Effie pursed her lips, obviously annoyed. "He will get the right not to be disturbed when he stops drinking himself into oblivion and starts helping me stay on schedule."

"I think he liked her…" Katniss winced. "They kept looking at each other it was… really disturbing to watch. Anyway, you're warned. I did my job." And she stepped aside. "How did your interview go?" she asked him. Peeta gave a vague answer, more interested by what was happening behind the closed door. Effie seemed more angry than annoyed now and she nearly slammed the door open. He braced himself for something shocking – because he knew Haymitch, after all – but there was nothing to be shocked about, except for the fact that the Capitol journalist was sitting so close to their mentor she was practically in his lap. Blue hair, blue make-up and blue-dress… She was blinding to look at. Even Effie, with her bright pink wig and her purple dress, seemed colorless beside her.

"Aren't you the one who always say you have to knock?" Haymitch growled. "What? Can't you do anything without me?"

Effie tensed at that and, Peeta couldn't help but notice, clenched her right fist.

"We will go without him." he offered quickly to prevent an umpteenth quarrel between the two of them. "Katniss and I will be with you, Effie, we don't actually need Haymitch, do we?"

Katniss shot him a puzzled look but he let it go unnoticed.

"No, Peeta, we definitely don't." Effie snapped, still staring angrily at the two on the couch. She turned around and stomped along the corridors, the clinking of her heels ringing out, forcing Peeta and Katniss to follow her at a faster pace than was comfortable.

Dinner, after that, was a tense affair. The Mayor was unfriendly, as were the other guests, Peeta was caught between Katniss – who was clearly bored to death – and Effie – who didn't talk because she was too busy glaring at Haymitch and Aquilia who were the only ones openly laughing and having a good time. He didn't remember ever seeing Haymitch being so agreeable to someone, particularly someone from the Capitol.

"I think she looks very vulgar." Peeta whispered to Effie when he couldn't take it anymore. Effie wasn't her cheerful self and it didn't take a genius to understand why.

"Oh, you can't say that, Peeta. It's no way for a well-mannered boy to talk about a stranger." Effie protested, pushing her untouched food around her plate with her fork. "But strictly between us… She does, doesn't she?"

"Absolutely." He nodded and Effie smiled at him, obviously pleased by his answer.

He, on the other hand, was definitely _not _pleased when, after dinner was over, Effie sent him to Haymitch and Aquilia.

"Effie says we're leaving." he said, feeling very ill-at-ease.

"In a minute." Haymitch didn't seem in a rush to leave his new friend.

"Well…" Peeta sighed. "What she actually said was: we're leaving with or without you but if you stay behind you're on your own."

Aquilia laughed and looked to where Effie was standing, arms crossed, waiting for them. "Escorts used to be pretty…"

Haymitch frowned at that and motioned for Peeta to go first.

"What's going on?" Katniss asked him, as soon as they were alone in the back of the car. "Effie seems…"

She shut up as soon as Effie got in, quickly followed by Haymitch. The silence was oppressing and Peeta was relieved when they finally reached the train station. It wasn't that late, though, and they all lingered in the living-room cart. Usually, Effie would make a thorough commentary of the evening but that night she was quiet, Haymitch sat in his chair nursing his drink, Katniss was brooding on the couch and Peeta was deeply regretting not having gone to bed when he had the chance. He didn't dare move, however, for fear of triggering a chain reaction.

"Pour me another drink, would you, sweetheart?"

Peeta tried to signal Katniss that itwould have been a _good_ _time_ to make their excuse, but Katniss clearly wasn't getting the message. Like Haymitch, she startled when Effie slammed her notebook shut.

"Get it yourself."

Now, Effie's and Haymitch's bickering wasn't unusual in itself but there was bickering and outright fighting. This, he figured, wouldn't end up in playful banter.

"What's gotten your wig in a twist ?" Haymitch snapped, banging his glass against the coffee table. "You've been a bitch all evening."

Katniss was looking at him now but Peeta was actively trying to will himself out of existence. There were things he _didn't_ want to hear.

"How would you know?" Effie shot back coldly. It was worse than if she had shouted in a way.

Haymitch was scowling and it never bode well. "What's this all about, Princess? You asked me to go easy on the wine, I went easy on the wine. One could think you would _thank_ _me_ for the effort."

Effie eyes trailed on Katniss and Peeta and she held on whatever she was going to say. But her exasperation was written all over her face.

"Come on, Effie, spit it out already." Haymitch taunted bitterly. "You know you want to. I'm not drunk enough for that crap."

"Well if I had known you being sober would result in even more improper behavior than usual I probably would have funneled wined right into your throat." she hissed. "You should be ashamed of yourself! And in front of the children too!"

Katniss lifted an eyebrow, not really happy to be called a child but Peeta put a hand on her arm to prevent her from saying anything.

"What did I do that didn't meet your standard, _Princess_?" Haymitch stood up heavily and darted to the liquor cart. "Did I cut my meat wrong? Did I forget to profess my gratitude before beginning to eat?" He grabbed a bottle and threw the lid on the ground before taking a long mouthful. "It all went fine, what's your damn problem?"

"My _problem_ is that not only did you steal Katniss' thunder but you also behaved outrageously with that…" Effie closed her mouth abruptly, looking at them again, and Peeta had the distinct impression that she was about to be very vulgar and refraining for their sake.

"_Slut_ is the word you're looking for, I think." Katniss piped out helpfully.

"Language, dear." Effie clasped her hands on her knees, like a proper lady. "But, yes, _quite_."

Haymitch blinked several times, his eyes traveling from a smirking Katniss to a glowering Effie in obvious confusion. And, of course… "Peeta, please, explain to me what's going on because I think they both have gone crazy."

Peeta wasn't about to get involved in _that_, whatever it was. He threw his hands in the air and refused to answer.

"Don't bother him." Effie said sternly, red with anger. "He was a perfect gentleman, tonight. _Unlike_ _you_. It's a wonder you're still alive. You were so obviously drowning in her cleavage I was afraid you would have a stroke."

"Is this about Aquilia?" Haymitch asked in a flash of comprehension. "Is that your bloody problem? You aren't _jealous_, are you?"

Haymitch looked as if he kind of wanted to laugh, now. Peeta didn't see anything funny in the situation, it was embarrassing more than anything. But there was no good way to get out of there now, so they were stuck in the room until the storm had blown over.

"Jealous?" Effie shrieked, her cheek flustered. "_Jealous_? Jealous of what exactly? That _tramp_ or your _dreadful_ _manners_?"

"Can we go now?" Katniss whispered to him.

"You _are._" Haymitch teased her, laughing softly. "You are jealous of that halfwit."

Effie squinted in anger and, really, Peeta thought, for someone so bent on always carrying a knife everywhere Haymitch should be more aware of the dangers around him. Effie may not be a tribute, a career or even a fighter but he would not have underestimate the damage she could do with the little notebook she was aggressively tapping against her knee in anger.

"I don't care about Aquilia." Effie said. "I care about how you behave in front of the children."

"The children…" Haymitch scoffed. "… are _adults_ and they are going to bed. _Now_."

Peeta and Katniss got to their feet, relieved, but Effie waved at them to sit down again – which they did, because Effie, right then, was deeply scary. Her face was unyielding, her eyes were shining with resentment and the notebook was beating more and more quickly against her leg.

"The _children_ don't need to see you behave like a beast in heat." she hissed. "This was improper behavior at its finest and Peeta doesn't need that kind of example nor does Katniss."

Haymitch took another swallow of wine and stared at her over his bottle. "This has _nothing_ to do with them." He sounded calmer and more collected than Peeta expected. "Truth is, you are jealous because I paid attention to someone else and wasn't at your beck and call all day."

"First, you are _never_ at my beck and call." Effie threw her notebook on the coffee table – for which Peeta was grateful because he _was_ convinced it could have been used as a weapon. "Secondly, this wasn't _paying attention_ or we don't have the same definition of the phrase."

"We don't have the same definition of a lot of things." Haymitch rolled his eyes. "She knew things about the Districts, okay? She was feeding me information she didn't even know she had. Nothing more. There, no need to be jealous."

Effie studied him for several seconds and relaxed a little. Peeta finally breathed out, hoping the crisis was averted.

"I am not jealous, don't be ridiculous." she stated again. "Just concerned about the children."

"You just tell yourself that, sweetheart." Haymitch smirked.

Katniss stood up and excused herself. Peeta followed because didn't he always?

"Do you think they…" Katniss asked, later, when they were snuggled in bed. "No, forget I asked. I don't want to know."

And Peeta didn't want to either.


	2. Naked Incident

Original Prompt : "Hello! Could you perhaps do a prompt where Haymitch walks in on Effie not wearing much? Like 75th games era? It would make my day! Thanks in advance!:)x"

**Naked Incident**

They were late and getting later by the minute. Worse, it wasn't Haymitch's fault. Well… It may have been Haymitch who spilled his drink on Effie's dress – an accident really, there was a chair in the way – but was it a reason to get so upset she had to lock herself in her room?

They had an appointment with a sponsor to get some medicine shipped to Katniss, Peeta and Finnick for their fog induced wounds, and he couldn't even go without her – which he normally would have – because _she_ had been the one who contacted the man in the first place. They couldn't lose the money.

Enough was enough.

He got off the couch, tired of waiting for her, and marched to her bedroom door. He knocked but there was no answer. He couldn't hear anything inside either. What if she had fallen asleep? It would be _just_ like her to choose the day they absolutely needed her to stop caring about her impossible schedules… He tried knocking again but to no avail. If she _was_ asleep… He tried the handle, it was unlocked, so he pushed the door open. Her room was empty, she wasn't there. He stood on the threshold indecisively. Her soiled dress was on the bed next to a clean – horrid – green one… But she was nowhere to be found. He walked into the room, pondering her disappearance. Was it possible she had gone without telling him? Was leaving him behind her idea of punishment?

The bathroom door swung open at that moment and this was a possibility that really should have occurred to him _before_. But it was too late now. They both froze for a second: she was horrified and he was transfixed by the tantalizing amount of creamy white skin, the strawberry-blond hair hastily clipped in a heap on the top of her head, the delicate feature of her face untainted by the heavy make-up…

"Haymitch!" she squealed, closing the door. "What _the_ _hell_ are you doing in _my_ room?"

He stared at the white door she was hiding behind, gaping a little. He had always been aware that she was a gorgeous woman but… her Capitol attire made her look hardly human.

"We… are late." He managed to explain, telling himself to get a grip.

"And this is a good reason for you to walk into _my_ room _uninvited_?" she hissed, obviously furious.

"What did you have to take a shower for, anyway?" he asked, playing with the wig she had discarded on her dresser.

"Because, _unlike_ _you,_ I don't like reeking of alcohol." There was a bang.

"Are you alright?" he asked immediately.

"I _hate_ you." came the muffled answer behind the door.

"Well, you're alright then." He couldn't help but laugh a little. It felt good. Things had been so tensed recently, with the Quarter Quell, he probably found this funnier than it actually was.

"Don't you _dare_ laugh at me, Haymitch." Oh, she was furious and it was glorious. "It's embarrassing enough as it is."

He shook his head, he couldn't believe that woman. She was wearing ridiculous wigs and outfits every day, in his opinion it was far more embarrassing than that particular little incident.

"You have nothing to be embarrassed about, believe me." he chuckled.

The door opened long enough for a lipstick to be thrown at his head with an unexpected good aim.

"Get out!" she commanded.

If they hadn't been late, he would probably have stayed and teased her a little more but, as it was… The kids really needed the medicine. So he did as she asked. It didn't stop him from thinking about what he had seen for the rest of the day. And she knew. He knew she knew because she kept blushing each time she felt his eyes on her.


	3. Coming Home

original prompt: when Effie gets jealous, Peeta tries to convince her to talk to Haymitch at a celebration for the rebellion.

**Coming Home **

The band was loud and obviously composed of non-professional musicians but their music was carefree and pleasant in a way no Capitol orchestra could ever hope to be. District 12 was celebrating, of course, it was. The whole country was celebrating the two years anniversary of the rebellion. Effie didn't know why she had come. The previous year she had still been half-mad with nightmares and mostly unable to recognize memory from reality so she had spent the day like she did every other : in her bed, in her tiny flat in the Capitol, waiting for the world to end. It had taken time for the flashbacks to recede, her friends had been very patient with her. Haymitch more than anyone, really. It had taken months to get the permission to take Katniss back to District 12 after Coin's murder, months he had spend almost single-handedly taking care of Katniss, Peeta and her. Effie had tried to help at first, but… it had been difficult for her to focus at the time. He had asked her to come with them when they finally left the Capitol for good but she had declined. She had been too afraid of leaving her home for a place she barely knew. Except the Capitol wasn't home anymore, not really…

Celebrating the rebellion – or freedom as most people called it – held no appeal to her. The very idea, however, had send the Capitol in turmoil. Everyone was planning parties, fireworks, all had to be pompous. She didn't like pomp much anymore, it reminded her of the Games. So she had left. On a whim. She had packed a bag and hopped on a train and half a day later, there she was, in District 12, watching, at the edge of a crowd, young people twirling and laughing in the middle of the newly-built square. The whole District was there, it seemed. She recognized some faces, she even saw Katniss sitting on a barrel, a sad look on her face as she watched the dancing.

She could have joined her and said hello. It was only reasonable. She had gone all this way to see her friends and now, her friends were there, in front of her and she couldn't even muster the strength to go and greet them.

She shouldn't have come.

And yet she couldn't leave.

Haymitch looked different. It hadn't stroked her that much right after the rebellion but now, there, he looked unfamiliar. _A stranger_. The thought pained her more than she would have liked. He was standing next to one of the big table with the food and drinks and he had a glass in his hand – things, unfortunately, didn't change _that_ much – but he wasn't clutching his liquor like it was a lifeline, he didn't look ready to bolt at the smallest touch – the woman he was laughing with was touching him _an awful lot_ and, for someone who was always claiming he hated human contact, he seemed to like it a bit too much – he looked relaxed. She had never seen him relaxed before. She had seen him drunk, speechless, angry, drugged with painkillers, worried, concerned, caring… Loving, maybe. But never relaxed. It hurt to know he wasn't as relaxed with Effie as he was with _her_.

The woman had long dark hair curling around her face, bright eyes, lovely hands that kept dancing in the air when she talked… She looked young and innocent. Unbroken. Whole. Her complete opposite.

"I wasn't sure it was you." She smiled at Peeta, absolutely not surprised that, of all of them, he was the one to find her. Peeta was always the most observant. "You changed, Effie."

How long had it been since she last saw him? _Them_? Months. A year, perhaps. There had been phone calls and lies about how well she was doing in the Capitol and how well they were doing in District 12. Truth was, without them, the Capitol was a lonely place. Truth was, Katniss would never completely heal and Peeta hadn't totally recovered.

"I grew up." She shrugged, uncaring of how improper it was. "I got old."

"Don't be ridiculous." Peeta chuckled, arms open in an invitation. "You're beautiful as always." She really wasn't, but she let him hug her despite the blatant lie. "I like you better like that. What is it you used to say… The pearl in the coal?"

She blushed at how stupid she had been back then. She _did _change, that much was true and she didn't actually mind Peeta's disbelieving stare. When he had last seen her, before Haymitch had taken the children back to District 12, she had still been trying to scrap the fragments of her old self. She had still been putting on the bright wigs and high heels and colorful dresses… And then, one day, after they had left, she had stepped out of her flat without her wig and without her heavy make-up and the world had not stopped turning. She had walked in the Capitol streets, head high, bared-face, feeling like a brand new person. That's when she understood. Her old self had died in the Capitol cells. She could never go back to who she had been before. She had accepted that. She had sold the wigs and the fashionable dresses and bought more practical clothes.

In the Capitol, people had scorned at the simple sunflower summer-dress she was wearing, they had laughed at the way her hair was falling around her face, they had scoffed at the comfortable shoes. Old Effie would have died of shame. New Effie didn't care. In District 12, nobody had looked at her twice.

"I didn't know you were coming." Peeta said, bending down to pick up the bag resting at her feet. "Are you looking for Haymitch? I can take your bag up to his house, if you want. I was going back to feed the cat, anyway. Katniss forgot, she always does."

"I…" She looked at Haymitch again, the way he smirked when his friend laughed at something he said… "I think I better go back home. Do you think there are still trains leaving today?"

"Home?" Peeta frowned. "You just got here…"

It was a mistake. Coming to District 12 was a huge mistake. What was she thinking? That he was waiting for her? That he had been waiting for her all this time? A few stolen kisses here and there scattered along the years didn't mean anything…

The crowd was too dense, the music too loud… She felt dizzy and stupid.

"I shouldn't have come." She took her bag from Peeta's hands and dashed away from the square, the hem of her dress twirling around her knees with each brisk step she took.

"Effie, wait!" Peeta called after her, hurrying along the narrow street she had chosen. "Effie, stop." He caught her arm and forced her to stay put. "Breathe." She obeyed, unaware she had been holding her breath all this time. Horrified, she felt tears burning her eyes. "What's wrong?" Peeta looked concerned and she hated herself for putting him through that, he had enough on his plate with Katniss and his own troubles as it was. "Do you need to lie down? I can take you home, if you want."

"I don't know where home is anymore." she confessed, compulsively clutching her bag. "I thought… But I was wrong. I should go back."

"Okay." Peeta said, accepting without judging as he always did. "Just let me get Haymitch, alright? If he finds out you were here and I didn't tell him, he will kill me. He misses you, you know?"

"I really doubt that." She lowered her eyes and clenched her jaw, unwilling to break down in the middle of the street. "He has new friends now. He doesn't need me."

"You are _very_ wrong." Peeta sighed. "You call him every Sunday, don't you ? I know because he broods for two days before and he pines for two days afterwards. He drinks in between. He's drinking less nowadays, I will give you that… But… he's better when you call."

She fidgeted a little, ill-at-ease. "I didn't warn him I was coming. It's bad manners."

"He won't care." Peeta snorted in amusement. "When has Haymitch ever cared about those things? Go talk to him. Please. I think you need it as much as he does." He slowly reached for her bag and, for some reason, she let him. "I will take that to the house."

"Peeta…" She stopped. How do you ask that kind of questions without sounding like you are snooping? "There was a woman with him…"

His wince was enough of an answer. "Alix, probably. She's sweet on him." She could feel herself becoming more and more detached from the present. She didn't like the feeling. It reminded her of the weeks spent in bed when she didn't have enough will to get up and try to learn how to live again. "Effie, no. It's not like that. Not for him anyway." Peeta seemed desperate to convince her.

"She looks lovely." She crossed her arms, shivering a little. The light wind played with her dress and with her hair. She should have brought a jacket.

"You look lovelier." Peeta sighed. "I won't lie, he likes her but not like that. Not as much as you."

"I'm broken." She whispered. "He deserves more."

"He deserves you." The boy… _Man_, now, she supposed, rubbed his eyes. "He fought for you, Effie. They would have put you on trial, he fought _for_ _you_. When you didn't come back with us… He misses you. I swear it's the honest truth. _Go to him_."

He left in the direction of the victors village, her bag thrown over his shoulder, without giving her the possibility to reply. Bad manners, she thought, but she wandered back to the square nevertheless. Nothing had changed in the few minutes they had been talking. Katniss was still perched on her barrel, their eyes met and the girl smiled at her, looking both pleasantly surprised and delighted to see her, and nodded to where Haymitch was with a wink.

The woman, Alix, was still there and, as Effie came closer, she couldn't help but notice the stranger really was good-looking. Not as young as she had thought but beautiful in a way that didn't need wigs or make-up to shine. She envied her natural beauty. She would bet nobody ever told her she looked plain without artifices.

She was oddly nervous, she stopped walking before she even reached them. It wasn't a good idea. Peeta must have been wrong. Haymitch was chuckling at whatever the woman was saying, twirling the dark liquid in his glass… She was looking at the glass, yet, she felt the very moment his eyes fell on her. She had always felt it. Since the very first time they met. It was a burning sensation, as if someone had suddenly aimed a spotlight at her, as if she was the only thing left existing in the whole world.

"Effie." The music carried half her name away but she heard enough to know he was smiling. She didn't dare look up, she was staring at the glass. The glass was safe. But the glass was soon carelessly discarded on the table and the hand that held it came closer and closer until it brushed her cheek softly, warily. "Hello, sweetheart."

Who reached for whom first? She couldn't say. All she knew is that, in the spur of a few seconds, she was caught in his embrace and she never wanted to let go. He didn't hold her as if she was fragile or precious, he held her like he had hold his liquor all those years: for dear life. And she held him exactly the same way. She closed her eyes and pressed her face against the side of his neck, breathing in the familiar smell of faint alcohol and _Haymitch_. She felt something easing inside of her, her constant anxiety washed away by his touch.

"You didn't say you were coming." he mumbled against her shoulder.

"I didn't know I was." she replied, leaning back just enough to see him properly. She retraced his features with the tip of her fingers, taking in the new wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. "And then I was in the train. So, _surprise_… I guess?" It ended up more like a question than as an exclamation and she stared at him, waiting for him to say something or to let her go maybe. She never wanted him to let her go but she couldn't actually say that out loud, could she?

He was looking at her as if he could tell everything she never said on the phone those last few months. She dropped her fake cheerful smile and leaned her head against his shoulder again.

"Where's your stuff?" His thumb was drawing complicated patterns on her shoulder blade. "I bet you brought a ton of luggage. You never knew how to travel lightly."

"That's perfectly untrue and you know it." Well… It _was_ true, but she wasn't about to admit that. "Peeta took my bag to your house. Or to Katniss' and his, I'm not sure. I don't want to impose on anyone…" But she would bet her bag was waiting for her in Haymitch's hallway.

"You can stay at mine." His embrace tightened a little. "There's no need to ask." There was every need to ask, it was only proper behavior, but Peeta was right. Haymitch never cared much for those things and she didn't either those days. "Let's go somewhere else, somewhere quiet." Haymitch suggested. "I can barely hear you over all that noise."

He stepped away from her and she shivered, feeling very cold all of sudden. She watched as he made his excuse to the woman who nodded in understanding but looked slightly dejected before turning to her again, his trademark smirk on his lips. God, she had missed that smirk…

He grabbed her hand to guide her through the crowd but he didn't let go and she didn't either. They kept walking through the empty streets of the new District 12 in silence until they reached the meadow Katniss had so often mentioned. There were benches here and there, they sat on the closest one, their back to the civilization, their eyes on the woods stretching in the sunset. Night was falling. She wondered if Old Effie would have found that romantic.

"Who was she, then?" she asked, at some point, because Peeta's explanations weren't enough. "Your friend?"

"Just a friend." He sounded a little defensive.

"Won't she mind if I stay at your house?" It was probably mean to press the point. He had a right to do what he wanted and she had _no_ right to question him like that.

"I can't say I care if she does." Haymitch wasn't looking at her. "You didn't come home with me, sweetheart. I asked you and you chose to stay there. You can't blame me if…"

"I don't blame you." she cut in.

"Good. Okay. If you say so." He sighed and slumped a little on the bench.

"I don't." She squeezed his hand. "You like her, though, I can tell. I don't like that you like her."

An odd sort of silence settled in, there was an expecting quality to it, as if it were pregnant with possibilities.

"I like her." he admitted at last. "But I love you."

She closed her eyes, as the words fluttered on her heart, mending what had been broken by the Capitol tortures.

"How are you, Princess?" His voice was soft, as it had been when he visited her in the hospital wing in 13.

She considered lying – It was something she had always been good at, not with him though, never with him – but it seemed too much of an effort. "Bad."

"Hence the absence of wigs and parrot clothes?" She had missed his teasing. It always infuriated her in the long run, but she had missed the teasing. Phone calls weren't the same.

"Those things don't define me anymore." she stated.

"They never did." Haymitch shrugged, releasing her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulders. She was glad for the extra warmth. "You were never like all those stupid cows. Not to me anyway."

"Good." She burrowed a little in his side. "Because I don't plan on wearing them again and I look hideous without them so you're warned. You only get ugly me, not fashionable me."

His other hand found her chin and tilted it up so that she had no choice but to meet his eyes.

"You couldn't be ugly if you tried, Trinket. And God knows you tried." he growled. "I don't know who put such ideas into your head but I wouldn't mind teaching them a thing or two."

"I'm not… I'm not beautiful like your friend. I will never be again like I was before." She caught his wrist to make him let go of her chin but he held on, curling his hand at the back of her neck… "I have scars all over my body."

"Yes, I have them too, remember?" There, was the familiar bitterness. "It means we're survivors, you and I. You shouldn't be ashamed of them. Never."

She bit her lips. He should know what he was getting into. "I'm broken."

"And I'm an alcoholic who raises geese. And Katniss is half-mad with grief and Peeta is schizophrenic most days than not." He shrugged. "There's no changing that now. All we have is each other. We're family now. For better or for worse."

She searched his eyes and she found nothing but acceptance there. None of the false sympathy her friends of the Capitol always insisted on pouring on her.

He didn't even blink when she leaned in, brushing his lips with her own. "I should have come home to you sooner." It was barely a whisper but it was enough for him to deepen the kiss. Something warm coiled in her belly and she clutched at his shirt. His hand brushed against her throat and traveled down, pausing on her waist and then on her thigh.

"Does it mean you're staying, then?" he asked, between two kisses.

"Yes." she hissed when he nibbled at the soft skin behind her jaw. "I'm staying."

He didn't ask if she meant forever and she didn't say she would never leave him again. He didn't need to and she didn't have to. They both knew.


	4. You're not Naked if you've got a Wig

Original prompt : Haymitch gets like SUPER wasted, steals one of Effie's wigs and proceeds to run around naked while wearing said wig causing havoc, Effie finds out and is super pissed at him for doing the thing and tries to get him to bed or something but he's all GO AWAY WOMAN IDGF!

**You're not naked if you've got a wig**

Effie awoke to frantic knocking on her bedroom door. It was late enough that it could only be one person. However, it couldn't be a matter of urgency given that their tributes had died that very same morning. She just wanted some sleep to try and forget the poor girl and the poor boy.

"Go away, Haymitch!" she snapped, turning her back to the rapping at her door.

The knocks didn't stop, if possible they became stronger and stronger until she couldn't take it anymore and threw the comforter away, snatching her dressing gown on her way to the door. She made sure the knot around her waist was secured before opening the door, not caring one bit about the disarray her hair must have been in.

"I swear, Haymitch, if you…" She stopped suddenly. It wasn't Haymitch. "Oh."

The boy in front of her fidgeted awkwardly under her gaze. He was so young she could have sworn he was a tribute. He couldn't be older than sixteen. He _was_ sixteen, she read the newspapers like everyone else and she shouldn't be impressed by a victor, she knew enough of them. "I'm sorry to wake you, Ma'am. I'm…"

"Finnick Odair!" she exclaimed, before deciding she was probably still asleep after all because what would Finnick Odair do at her door in the middle of the night? District 4 mentors had their own escort. An escort who wasn't forced to babysit the victors all day long.

"Yes, Ma'am." He smiled the wolfish smile that sent the entire Capitol in turmoil.

"Oh, Effie. Call me Effie, please." She touched her hair gingerly, trying to flatten it – which was ridiculous because the boy was _sixteen_. It was his first year as a mentor, he had spent the two previous game at home, District 4 having plenty of victors to play mentors. "How can I help you?"

"Chaff sends me." Finnick explained. "He said you better come quick before Haymitch gets himself arrested."

She closed her eyes, counted to ten and when she opened them again, she forced a smile on her lips. It must have looked more like a snarl than a grin because Finnick seemed half-impressed and half-amused. "What has he done this time?" Haymitch had been particularly difficult since the reaping. Something about District 12 male tribute being the son of one of his acquaintances…

"Well… He's _still_ doing it to say the truth. In the main hall." Finnick couldn't hide his obvious amusement. "I didn't know a man could drink that much."

Those victors, really… They didn't realize how badly their behavior reflected on their escort. "Let me change." She closed the door softly and dressed as quickly as she could. For some reason, she had trouble locating her wig and ended up grabbing her mint-green spare one from her trunk. Finnick was patiently waiting for her by the elevator doors, looking around obviously impressed. One thing District 12 had that the other didn't, she always said, was the penthouse floor in the Training Center.

"What were you all doing in the main hall in the first place?" she scolded him because – famous victor or not – he had been an accomplice in whatever Haymitch and Chaff had gotten up to. "Have _you_ been drinking?" Finnick winced and she clucked her tongue in disapprobation. "You're too young to be drinking. Chaff and Haymitch are _so_ going to regret whatever…" The elevator chimed, the door slid open and she was left speechless. "What _on earth_!"

Her shriek made Chaff jump a little and he immediately came over to her, his hand and his lump raised in supplication, or as a shield she wasn't sure. He would certainly need a shield because she was going to _kill_ _him_.

"It isn't my fault, love." Chaff said, trying to block her view of the hall but really… There wasn't any blocking the numerous flashes of the photographers or the numerous cameras rolling around to find a better angle. "I told him to stop drinking. I tried to get him back to your floor but…" This was a _nightmare_.

"Tell me I am having a _really_ _bad_ dream." she whimpered, eyes wide.

Around them, people were laughing, pointing at Haymitch who was currently singing an off-key rendition of a popular catchy song, swinging back and forth his bottle of wine, perched on the edge of the big fountain, naked as the day he was born, with her newest – _very expensive and very fragile_ – pale blue wig on his head. She didn't even know about which part of that scene she was the maddest.

"I'm sorry, Effie." Chaff looked properly remorseful, for once. "I really tried to get him back but he isn't listening to me."

"Couldn't you _knock him out_?!" she hissed. It would have been far easier to deal with a concussion than to deal with… _that_.

"We tried." Finnick shrugged. "He has a wicked right hook. Also, a knife."

"Where do you want him to keep a knife? He's stark naked!" People had begun to notice their arrival and Effie was distinctly uncomfortable at the number of flashes that were turning her way.

"Yeah, you won't like that bit…" Chaff made a face but she could swear he was laughing. "He snatched it in the wig."

"In _my_ wig?" She couldn't help her horrified yelp, but horror and mortification soon left place to pure, unaltered fury. She strode to the fountain, each step punctured by the clinking of her heels, and placed herself right in front of him, her eyes firmly set on his face and _not _on anything that was dangling too close to her nose for her comfort. "Get down, _this_ _instant_, Haymitch Abernathy."

She was a little too aware of how many people were watching them. She saw Chaff trying to convince the press to back off a little, Finnick helping him as best as he could, but she couldn't handle that right now. She would have to call in a few favor for the damage control, that, if they weren't _live_.

"Trinket!" Haymitch cried out, apparently delighted to see her. "Joined the party, have you? Come on, sing with me!"

She grabbed the arm swinging the bottle around and pulled. He wobbled unsteadily back and forth until she let go, scared he would fall into the water behind him and hit his head. Concussed Haymitch, she could deal with. Concussed, drunk, naked, wet Haymitch, not so much.

"What did you do that for?" he grumbled, after stretching his arms like a tightrope walker to regain his balance and exposing himself for the whole world to see. Flashes increased. "If you wanted a drink you could have said so. Chaff has more booze somewhere…"

"Haymitch." She ignored the part about Chaff and his probably illegal stock of illicit substances. "You are _naked_ in a _public_ place with _cameras_. Get down this fountain _right now_, or so help me…"

Three Peacekeepers had gathered in a corner and Effie was almost relieved. She was beginning to suspect it would be easier to get him out of jail than to get him out of there. However, the guards didn't do anything but laugh at the ridiculous scene they made : Haymitch looking at her with a puzzled look and she trying her best to appear stern when all she wanted to do was smother him with the wig he had so uncaringly _ruined_. She could see the knife handle in the midst of the once-stylish curls.

"Princess…" He slurred slowly. "Don't be stupid. I'm not naked, I have a _wig_."

He had the impudence to gesture at the tangled blue heap on his head and she snapped. Enough was enough. She climbed on the edge of the fountain with some difficulties because of her dress, ignoring the way his empty hand immediately shot for her waist to stabilize her, and she snatched the wig off his head.

"_There_." she said, trying her best not to lose her balance. The edge of the fountain was narrow and her heels were high. "Now, you're naked."

"Why did you do that for?!" Haymitch shouted angrily, advancing unsteadily on her to steal the wig.

She hold it out of his reach, careful of the blade still stuck in it. "Go. Back. To. The. Penthouse. _Now_."

She heard Chaff's trademark barks of laughter but she was too angry to care.

"Never!" Haymitch vowed, giving another shot at catching the wig.

She stepped back, a little too hastily. Her ankle twisted and she just had enough time to meet Haymitch's wide eyes before she was stumbling backwards. His clumsy attempt to hold her back only resulted in him falling with her.

The fountain was fortunately deep enough for the water to break her fall a little. Her shoulder took the worst of it, really. It hurt but didn't seem too damaged. She pushed Haymitch back from her and sat, completely wet. Water was streaming from her damp wig directly into her eyes. The rounds of laughter only increased around them. She had never been so _humiliated _in her _whole life_.

"Oh my god, Ma'am, are you okay?" Finnick asked, concerned, holding out his hand to help her out of the fountain.

"If you consider being on the verge of committing murder okay, then, yes, I am perfectly fine." She replied, coldly, her eyes fixed on Haymitch. The incident must have had the unplanned bonus of sobering him up a little because he didn't look like he wanted to argue anymore. He fished the wig from the water, knife still dangling from it, and handed it to her with a sheepish expression. She ignored him and seized Finnick's hand, happy that there were gentlemen left in this crumbling world.

"Come on, buddy." Chaff dragged Haymitch out of the water. "Show's over."

Effie hobbled to the elevator with as much dignity as a woman could muster when she was dripping wet, when one of her teen inches heel was broken and when she was still being photographed by every damn reporter in the Capitol. This incident would do a lovely aside-piece to the Games, Caesar would have a good laugh.

Once the elevator doors closed on Chaff and Haymitch, she took off her shoes and tested her ankle warily but it didn't give under her weight. She had worse. You don't wear heels that high and not accustom yourself to twisted ankles.

"Are you hurt?" Finnick worried.

"You're sweet." she told him because neither Chaff nor Haymitch had cared enough to ask.

He smiled at her, young and yet lacking this innocence most sixteen years old still exhaled.

"How angry are you?" Haymitch asked, after a few seconds. He was only standing upright because Chaff was taking his weight.

"How drunk are you?" she shot back.

"_Very_." he winced. "Less than before."

"Does that mean you're very angry but less than you were before, Trinket?" Chaff laughed at his own joke.

Haymitch kicked his shin, probably to convince him to stop talking.

"_Angry_ is too feeble a word to express how I feel." she said coldly. "And Haymitch isn't the only one I'm furious with, Chaff. I will have words with your escort."

It only made him roll his eyes.

"You are paying for the wig, the dress _and_ the heels." she decided, just as they reached District 12 floor.

"What?" Chaff huffed, while carrying Haymitch to his bedroom. "It wasn't _me_ who pushed you into a fountain, love !"

"I will pay." Haymitch mumbled.

"_You_ will do nothing of the sort. He swore to me he would make sure you wouldn't drink too much." Effie caught Chaff's lump before he could dump Haymitch on the bed. "Certainly not. You will help him dry first. This is a bed, not a pool."

She left Finnick in charge. She trusted him more than she did Chaff and the poor boy looked very sorry indeed about the whole misadventure. When she came back to his room, showered, hair dried and once again in her pajamas, the other victors were nowhere to be seen. They had left Haymitch flat on his bed, face down, on top of the covers. She revised her judgment on Finnick. He clearly was as incompetent as the rest of them.

"Haymitch." She let out a tired sigh and shook his shoulder. "_Haymitch_." His eyes opened lazily. "You're still naked."

"Love what you see?" His words were slurred and she rolled her eyes. Even though she had to admit, what she was seeing wasn't all that bad.

"You will catch your death." She looked around, hoping to find his nightclothes but the room was always in such a disarray that she couldn't find a dog if it was barking. She rummaged in the dresser for several minutes and finally found a pair of sweatpants that would have to do. She was a little afraid he would have gone back to sleep but he was still watching her. "Come on, help me." His movements were uncoordinated but she managed to pull the pants on him. He slumped back on his stomach.

"You dress me a lot." he said. "I'm not a doll."

She _dressed him a lot_. The things you heard! She was used to dressing him, she had to be when he insisted on passing out drunk in various places or on being sick on himself – and on one remarkable occasion, on her. She had seen everything there was to see about him.

She slapped his butt playfully. It was stupid and she blushed afterwards. But it was right there, in front of her and it was absolutely too tempting… He probably wouldn't even remember, anyway.

"Ouch." he mocked her, clearly humoring her.

"I'm not your babysitter, Haymitch." she said, sitting down on the bed beside him after helping him get under the covers. "Have you any idea how _mortifying_ that was for me?"

"I told Chaff not to get you when it's like that. _Ever_." He turned on his side to face her. He looked so vulnerable… It wasn't fair. She couldn't stay angry with him when he was staring at her like that. "I am sorry about the wig. It was fun at the time."

"Never mind the wig." Her poor, _poor_, beautiful blue wig… "You could have gotten arrested. You could have gotten _hurt_."

"Nobody would cry if I died, sweetheart." He gave a one-shoulder shrug. "Chill out."

She slapped him again, on his arm this time. The whack smacked again his bare skin and he didn't have to feign pain this time. "Ow! Are you bloody _crazy_?" He rubbed the place she had hit, glaring at her.

She glared right back. "I would. Cry, that is. So you're not allowed to die."

His glare faded into something more subdue that she would have called 'affection' were he anyone else. "Would you stay? Just… For a while?" He lifted the covers in invitation.

If there ever were an award for the most improper proposition, Haymitch would win it. She didn't get in bed with any man but she didn't dress just any man either.

"Don't tell anyone." she warned him, before slipping under the cover. His hand came to rest on her hip tentatively and when she didn't smack it away, he wrapped his arm around her waist. It wasn't long before they settled in a semi-embrace. She was nestled against him, his cheek gently resting on the top of her head, arms around each other and, for the first time since she had watched their tributes die, she felt like she could breathe again. They had never done that before. One of them always ended up comforting the other but it never went that far… It usually ended with him drinking himself to oblivion and she crying herself to sleep after making sure he would be alright.

"I like your hair." he mused, absent-mindedly playing with a strand. "I don't know why you bother with the wigs." He had expressed that sentiment each time he had seen her without a wig, he was so clueless about fashion...

"I can't believe you made me fall into the main hall fountain in front of _everyone_." She was too tired to be angry but she vowed to make him pay in the morning. She would _never_ let him forget that humiliation.

"I can't believe you didn't kill me." He wasn't taking it seriously enough. She _would_ have her revenge.

"Who says I am not going to? Perhaps I just want you to be sober when I do." Her eyes closed and she had to remind herself that she couldn't fall asleep there. Hugging a friend in a bed was one thing, falling asleep in their bed was completely another. And they weren't like that.

"Well, then you will never be able to do it." he snorted.

She waited a few minutes to ask what she wanted to ask. He hadn't answered her before, stating that it wasn't her business but…

"Was tonight about the boy?" They never used their names after the tributes had passed. It made it easier somehow, just another boy and another girl they couldn't save, no different than those who came before them and no different than those who would come after. "You know his father, don't you? He told me you two are friends." She felt the shift under her fingers, he tensed. All at once. He had been relaxed before. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"

"We went to school together." Haymitch mumbled against her hair. "After the Games… _My_ Games… He's the last friend I have from before. _Was_."

She didn't need to ask why the correction. She couldn't imagine the man would stay friends with the mentor who failed to save his son, as unfair as it was. Haymitch had done his best, he always did. She made sure he always did.

"You… don't have friends in your District?" Her voice was uncertain. She didn't know how much she could ask. His life in District 12 belonged in District 12, he had made that abundantly clear along the years. He was friends with some of the other victors, that much she knew, and, obviously, _they_ were friends, but he never talked about anyone at home.

"Only someone who was in the Games can accept you after the arena. You know that, sweetheart." He sounded pained, as if it was physically hurtful to say that aloud.

"But I'm not a victor and we're friends anyway." she pointed out because his logic was flawed. Few escorts were friends with their mentors, though. The former tributes all tended to be generally charming on camera but in real life, they were all difficult and hard to deal with. Most of them resented the escorts when they weren't outright disliking them. Chaff, she knew, didn't understand why Haymitch liked her so much, he himself found her dim-witted. He had implied as much several times.

"You know the Games from inside." he yawned. "You hate them as much as I do."

It was her turn to tense. She could swear her heart was going to beat right out of her chest. This was treason talk. This was…

"Don't ever say that again." she commanded in a frantic whisper. "Don't _even_ _think_ that again."

"Sorry." He gathered her more tightly into his arms. "For what it's worth… I would protect you."

Protect her? Against what? She knew what happened to people who questioned the Games or the Capitol, everyone with half a brain knew. But you didn't talk about it. You _never_ talk about it. It didn't exist. It had no body, no face and no shape. It was invisible. One minute someone was there and the next they were gone, erased from existence as if they had never been born. How do you protect someone against a beast without a name ? You didn't. You couldn't.

"Things will change, sweetheart." he slurred, already half-asleep. "All we need is a spark…"

"Stop that." she hissed. She leaned on her arm to properly look at him, to make him understand how serious this all was, how potentially dangerous, but his eyes were closed. He looked so peaceful you would never have thought he had just been talking treason.

It was the perfect moment to slip out of his bed and go back to her room.

She couldn't find the strength to do so. She snuggled against him and counted the beatings of his heart. She shouldn't stay. They weren't like that. Sometimes, though, in the dead of the night, she wished they were. But no one would ever be the wiser.


	5. Impulses

Original Prompt : "Would you mind writing a one shot about Haymitch's and Effie's reaction to Peeta's "death" during the 75th Hunger Games? When he hits the force field"

**Impulses**

"_And it seems Peeta Mellark is about to go down, Caesar."_ The commentator's voice seemed strangely disembodied.

"What?" Effie turned her head from the smaller screen perched on the corner of the coffee table. "No, he's not. They're walking, he's fine."

Haymitch downed his glass in one go, convinced it was all about to go to shit. There were three screens in District 12's living-room now, as was the custom. Two portables televisions they had dispatched on the coffee table like they always did – one for each of their tributes – and the big screen screwed to the wall that was tuned on national broadcast. Effie was kneeling on the ground, in front of the table, following Katniss' and Peeta's progresses and he was sitting on the couch, actively fighting the impulse of drinking the whole liquor cart as more and more of his friends were slaughtered on the big screen.

"What are they doing?" he asked, leaning closer to her to see Peeta's screen.

"_Nothing_." Effie waved at their tributes in dismay, her eyes riveted on the national broadcast. "They're just walking."

And they _were_ just walking. Everything was going _perfectly_… Katniss had not killed Finnick yet… Both she and Peeta had escaped the bloodbath… They had enough weapons to go around… Finnick knew what to do, they _all_ knew what to do : protect Peeta.

"_Wait for it, dear viewer!"_ Caesar's voice boomed as the images of the Cornucopia's fight disappeared to show District 4's and 12's tributes trekking through the jungle. _"They're in for a nasty surprise…"_

Haymitch let out a curse and eased himself out of the couch to the ground next to Effie.

"I can't see anything dangerous." She mused, confused, as she studied each screen in turn. "But it doesn't mean anything of course. What do you think…"

"He's taken point." He hadn't notice before. On the screen Peeta was switching his knife back and forth to clear the path. Haymitch's eyes widened just as Caesar started prattling about the limits of the arena. "He's going to…"

He didn't have time to finish his sentence. Katniss cried out but it was too late, it was _always_ too late, Peeta's knife had already struck the force field.

"_No_." Effie breathed out, as the boy was thrown back into Finnick, making all of them fall like a row of bad aligned dominos. "No, no, no, no… He's fine. Force fields don't kill you. He's fine, just knocked out. Haymitch, tell me he's fine."

Peeta's screen went dead as was the norm when the tribute's heart stopped beating.

"No!" Effie whined, uselessly hitting the side of the appliance to make the image come back. Or to make _Peeta_ come back, Haymitch wasn't sure.

The close-up of Katniss' face, on her own screen, nearly broke his heart. He slumped a little, leaning against the couch and passed a hand on his face before rubbing at his chin. Shocked. Caesar's voice who was saying it was a shame and sympathizing with what Katniss must have been feeling didn't even register.

"He can't be dead." Effie said, hitting the device again and again. "He can't…" There were tears rolling down her cheeks, leaving pink trails on her powdered skin.

He blindly reached for her arm and pull her closer to him. She struggled a little, trying to keep on fighting the dead screen as if it had personally affronted her. "Stop," he commanded "Stop that. He's dead. He's…" Gone. _Dead_. And everything he worked for was lost. Everything for nothing. He failed. Like he always did.

Effie collapsed against him, wheezing sobs wrecking her body. He held her. What else could he do? He held her and burrowed his face in the crook of her neck and prayed for a forgiveness he had no right to ask for. It was some time before his brain finally deciphered Caesar's words, before he gathered the strength to look at the broadcast again… Finnick was pumping on Peeta's chest with the same determination Effie had put into hitting the screen.

"Sweetheart…" he called, his voice disbelieving. He wasn't surprised Finnick was trying to revive him, he was stunned they were letting him do it.

She lifted her head, leaving a dark wet spot on his shirt where her tears and make-up had mixed.

"Is he…" She sounded just as astonished as he was. No tribute had ever done that before. It was provocation at its highest. And, as Caesar was so bluntly putting it, it was a historic moment for the Hunger Games. "Please, let it work, please…"

Finnick finally leaned back and for one second, one tiny little second, Haymitch thought Peeta was truly lost. Katniss launched herself at the boy just as his screen flickered back to life once again.

He breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Oh, thank god!" Effie blurted out, before laughing in pure instinctive glee. "He's alive!"

For now. But he didn't say that. He didn't want to say that when she was so obviously relieved, so he forced himself to smirk. "Do you…" He intended to tease her about her impulsive violence against the electronically appliances but he didn't even manage to fully utter the _you_ before she attacked him. Her mouth clashed against his in what would probably have passed for a kiss in some savage, brutal country. He leaned in when she retreated but she was blushing and clearing her throat and decidedly _not_ looking at him – no more kissing, then. He licked his lips, desperate to make her do that again, a little more properly.

"What was that, then?" he asked, his voice rough.

She was still pretending to look at the screen but she was crimson underneath all that white powder, he could tell.

"I'm just glad Peeta is alive, that's all." she replied, hastily. "Don't get any ideas."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Princess."


	6. Assumptions

Original prompt "Possibly a story where Cinna and Portia have kinky ideas about what goes on secretly with Effie and Haymitch? Thanks of you write this up!:)"

**Assumptions **

"Come on, Haymitch." Effie hissed, standing just in front of the couch, hands on her hips in a posture of obvious displeasure. Haymitch lazily looked up at her and took another mouthful of his bottle of wine despite the fact that he clearly had enough.

Cinna effortlessly jumped to his feet. "Do you need…"

"No. Thank you, Cinna." Effie waved at him to sit back down and he did, under Portia's amused gaze. "He can walk, he's just being difficult on purpose."

Cinna wasn't totally convinced Haymitch _could_ walk. Granted, it was the first time Portia and he were working with District 12, but everybody knew the victor turned mentor had a problem with alcohol and from what they had seen so far, it was a nice euphemism for saying he was a hopeless drunk. It was too bad for Katniss and Peeta, he liked the kids and, to be fair, Haymitch had laid off the wine until after they went to bed, but… Cinna couldn't see how they would pull it off with such a mentor. Effie, at least, seemed competent.

"Haymitch. Bed. _Now_." Effie barked, at her wits end after her tugging of his arm had resulted in nothing more than her almost stumbling on the coffee table. "I swear to everything holy, I will hide all your liquor if you make a scene tonight when we have _guests_." The escort and the mentor exchanged a long glare that obviously held more meaning for them than to Portia and him, because Haymitch rolled his eyes, sighed and let Effie help him to his feet. They awkwardly shuffled out of the living-room, Haymitch half-slumped on his escort, Effie's sing-song voice piping that she would be only a minute.

Once they were out, he and Portia looked at each other and it was all they could do not to erupt in painful giggles that would have been highly unprofessional and not really mature.

"Do you think she's that bossy in every area of their relationship?" Portia asked, in a whisper, a spark of amusement in her eyes.

Cinna shook his head. "I'm not sure there is another area to their relationship."

"Oh, trust me." Portia smirked cheekily. "There is."

"They look like an old married couple." Cinna conceded.

"An old married couple with a very bossy wife." She rubbed her ankle, shooting him a slightly dark look. He had designed those high heeled shoes and had convinced her to try them on for him but they obviously weren't comfortable enough for her liking. "Maybe he likes to be bossed around, if you catch my meaning."

"I catch it, I reject it, I forget it. I don't need that kind of images into my head, thank you." Cinna laughed softly, trying hard not to think about what she was implying.

"But it's true." Portia insisted. "Dominant personalities often like to be challenged…"

"And how would you know that?" Cinna winked at her, watching the slow smile blossoming on her lips. Portia was a cheeky girl despite her sweet, almost angelic, public look.

"I don't get what they see in each other, though." she said, wrinkling her nose. "She's nice enough but a bit… overzealous. And he's not that bad-looking but did you see how much he drank tonight?"

"Oh, I don't know…" Cinna mused. "I can see the appeal."

"Which one?" she asked with a knowing smile.

"Both of them." He shrugged before smoothing the creeks of his perfectly tailored suit.

A spark of mirth was dancing in Portia's eyes, now. He definitely knew that look. "Kill, fuck, marry."

"You must have three person to play that game, Portia." he reminded her, wondering what was taking Effie so long to come back. He purposely did _not_ think about what Portia had implied.

"You can add me to the mix." She waved his argument away. "Effie, Haymitch and me. Kill, fuck, marry."

He leaned forward a little, making sure Effie wasn't about to reenter the living-room unexpectedly but there was absolutely no sign of life in the whole penthouse. He would conclude she had forgotten them if it didn't seem such a non-Effie thing to do. He hadn't known her long but it was enough to understand how important manners were to her.

"Kill Haymitch, fuck Effie, marry you." he replied, without having to think about it twice. "Marry you because you're obviously the best long-term partner I would ever have, fuck Effie because... well, she's attractive and kill Haymitch because I'm sure once he learns what I did with Effie he would try to murder me. Your turn."

"Flawless reasoning." Portia agreed, nodding wisely. "Marry Effie, fuck Haymitch and kill you."

"Interesting choice." Cinna got up to refill their glasses of wine – since no one was there to offer them more, he figured he could take the liberty. "Why do I die in this scenario?"

"Because you fucked Effie, of course." She took the glass he handed her.

Cinna watched her curiously, slowly sipping his wine. "Would it have been better if I had married her and fucked you?"

"Too late for regret." Portia joked. "You married me and now I'm killing you. A lot of marriages end worse than that."

He rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless and wandered to the living-room threshold. The corridor was dark, all the doors were closed. "What do you think happen to them?"

"I think my wife is cheating on me with my lover, right now." Portia sighed, stretching her arms over her head. "And I think I'm dead tired and I want to go home."

"We can't leave without saying goodnight." Cinna's fingers drummed on the doorframe.

"We can try to find them?" she suggested before wincing a little. "Your shoes really _are_ killing me. The strap is too low to hold the ankle properly and the sole isn't bendy enough, put Katniss in them and she won't be able to take two steps."

"Duly noted." He glanced at his watch. Effie had been gone for more than fifteen minutes now. It was late and they had still a lot left to do for Katniss and Peeta's interviews. He had a few ideas for Katniss' dress… "Should we… go to Haymitch's room?"

Portia's eyebrow shot up. "Do we want to?"

"We don't, but we don't have a choice." Cinna concluded before taking a brave step in the corridor. It was a step closer to his bed, which was all he desired for now. By the time he arrived in front of Haymitch closed door, Portia was behind him, coat on and purse in hand. He could hear people speaking inside so he knocked.

The door opened on a disheveled Effie, her wig was a little crooked, her cheek were red despite the white powder and Cinna didn't need to look at Portia to know she was sporting a triumphant smile.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Effie, but we have to go." he apologized swiftly.

Effie's eyes widened in horror. "How long have I been gone? Oh, how rude of me… I'm so very sorry, Cinna, Portia… Haymitch was being difficult. He often is. He's worse than a child sometimes, I have to be stern with him."

"Don't worry." Portia's smile was sweet, Cinna guessed that, to a stranger, it must have looked friendly. It _was_ genuinely friendly, that much was true, but it was also the smile she sported every time she was dying to laugh openly at something. "I hope Haymitch is alright."

"Oh, yes, he is…" Effie sighed, looking tired. "He just didn't want to lie down and then didn't want to stay in his bed and… But I won't bore you with that."

"I'm sorry." Portia said, and there wasn't any trace of amusement on her face anymore. "You shouldn't have to do that. It isn't your job."

Effie went from tired to defensive in a heartbeat. "Oh, I don't mind… I've given you the wrong impression, I fear. Haymitch is a good man, you have to believe that. He is… troubled, sometimes, and liquor comforts him. It's a shame but he _is_ a good man."

She looked ready to rip their throats off if they tried to do as much as argue.

"Of course he is." Cinna agreed. "Some victors… I've seen more _troubled_ victors than him. It's understandable. Please, Effie, don't worry on our account. We understand, don't we, Portia?"

Portia nodded. "If you ever need help…"

"You're both very kind." Effie smiled. "But…"

"Princess!" came the shout from inside the bedroom. "Come back to bed!"

The door blocked Cinna's view and it probably was for the best. Effie closed her eyes, mortified. "This isn't what it looks like. He's needy when he's drunk, it's…" She fell silent, clearly realizing she wasn't helping her case.

Portia stepped forward, squeezing her shoulder. "Like Cinna said, don't you worry on our account."

"_Trinket_!"

"You're sure you don't need any help?" Cinna insisted, because leaving a woman as frail as Effie with a drunk man built like Haymitch was tugging at his conscience. "Are you sure it's safe if we leave?" He knew, deep down, that she had been doing that for years but… it didn't seem right, somehow. He didn't know Haymitch that well but in his experience drunk people tended to get a little aggressive. Even Portia, for all her joking earlier, seemed disinclined to leave her alone with him now.

"Safe?" Effie repeated, surprised. "Oh, you mean because of Haymitch? He would _never_ hurt _me_."

She sounded insulted, as if Cinna should have known better than to ask something like that when, in all fairness, it was a perfectly logical question to ask.

"Sometimes you hurt people without meaning to…" Portia said, softly. "We just want to make sure you're okay, that's all…"

There was a crash in the bedroom, followed by heavy stomps to the door.

"Sweetheart, why are you…" Haymitch stopped when he saw them, a hand on Effie's hip, the other on the wall for support. His eyes were glassy but less than before, he looked a little more coherent. "I thought you had left." His speech, however, was still slurred and louder than it ought to be.

"Quiet, Haymitch, you will wake the children." Effie admonished him, before turning back to them. "I'm perfectly safe, thank you for your concern."

Cinna opened his mouth – to argue some more or to apologize, he didn't quite know yet – but Haymitch beat him to it. "Safe? Why wouldn't you be safe? I won't ever let anything bad happen to you, you know that..." The hand that rested on her hip moved until his arm was wrapped around her middle and her back was pressed against his chest. "I will protect you or die trying."

He was obviously still drunk and not entirely aware of what he was saying but there was no doubt, in Cinna's mind, that he was genuine. Effie didn't look particularly surprised by the pledge which, he thought, most likely meant that Haymitch had already stated as much before that night; she looked slightly embarrassed that Portia and he had witnessed the scene but, mostly, she looked moved and a little pained. Probably because she believed he would _literally_ give his life to keep her safe.

She patted his arm tenderly. "I know. I trust you."

Haymitch smiled at her then, a slow loving smile that told more to Cinna than every defense speeches Effie could have launched herself in. As he watched them looking at each other, he felt like an intruder. Portia must have felt the same way, because she cleared her throat awkwardly. "Well… We're off, then. Have a goodnight."

Effie offered to walk them back to the elevator but Cinna assured her that it wasn't necessary. They didn't speak until they were in the safe confined space of the elevator.

"They love each other." Portia said, a little sadly. "I didn't expect that."

"I can't say I saw that one coming either." he replied.

She naturally wrapped an arm around his waist as they stepped out in the main hall and he, in turn, held her around the shoulders, bringing her closer.

"District and Capitol…" she pondered, regretfully, as they reached the security desk. "This isn't going to end well for either of them, is it?"

He held his answer off until they had left the complex and were back in the Capitol streets, still busy despite the late hour.

"He's a victor." Cinna said, at last, once the Center building was nothing but a looming shadow behind them. "There's no way he can keep her safe if they find out and decide to use her as a pressure point. He must know that."

"She must know it too." Portia sighed and leaned further into him. "That's… That's _awful_. I feel bad for making fun of them, now."

"Do you want to take a cab?" he asked, feeling the need to change the subject.

"We're only two blocks away, now." Portia pointed out.

"Your feet don't hurt too much?" He glanced down at the shoes. They still looked pretty to him, one of his best design, but if Portia said they weren't good enough, they weren't good enough. "I'm sorry about that."

"I should make you carry me all the way back for those hours of torture." she teased bumping her hip with his. "It's only fair."

"Is it, now?" He smiled at her.

"Yes. But I'm generous and I won't impose on your back what you did to my poor feet."

He shook his head before lowering his arm to hold her around the waist rather than her shoulders, he caught her under her knees with his other arm and lifted her up in a swift movement. People pointed at them in amusement.

"How strong and unafraid of ridicule you are." Portia laughed before kissing his cheek. "What's next? You vow to be my knight in shining armor?"

Cinna walked slowly, careful not to bump into anything or to drop her, thinking back to Haymitch's oath. They lived in a time when that kind of promises, honestly meant or not, were empty. The Capitol was free in name only, he knew that. The only thing you could do to keep your loved ones safe was to keep them in the dark about your dissident thoughts. _That's_ how you kept them safe.

"Sure, why not…" he said. "I vow to protect you, always, be it against monstrous shoes or… anything direr. I will keep you safe."


	7. To Kill a Parrot

Original prompt: Haymitch gets jealous (post-Mockingjay).

**_To Kill a Parrot_**

Haymitch hurried on the narrow path that lead to the victors village – the only thing still standing from old District Twelve and it was still as abandoned as it had always been – glad to be home. His trip to District Four had proved to be more of a chore than anything else. Johanna's decision to move closer to Annie to help her cope with Finnick's death and their little one had resulted in him having to carry a lot of furniture, paint one too many rooms and listen to Katniss quarreling uselessly with Johanna for five endless days. Katniss and Peeta had chosen to stay longer and make an holiday out of it but Haymitch had been desperate to go home, officially worried about how Effie was coping without him and secretly – or not so secretly given how many times Katniss implied just so – missing her dearly.

Effie didn't like to travel much anymore, it reminded her of her life as an escort. She had showed up on his doorstep one day, a bag thrown on her shoulder and two others at her feet. It was a temporary arrangement at first, a place for her to stay while she figured out all the problems her imprisonment had left her with. She couldn't stay in the Capitol because everything reminded her of the Games or of the torture _they_ had inflicted upon her, she hadn't be able connect with her friends, she had felt lonely and misunderstood so she had come home to the only family she had left : Haymitch and the kids. She had come with a full basket of problems: nightmares, panic attacks, flashbacks that left her catatonic for hours…

He had offered her his guest bedroom. A week later they were sharing _his_ bedroom and she had taken possession of the whole house: cleaning, redecorating everything to her own taste and generally being a pain in the ass. He had let her because it helped her keep the grief away, it wasn't that _awful_ anyway. He would lie through his teeth if anyone ever asked him but, truth was, he kind of liked what she did with the place. It looked more like a home than a house now.

They had developed a system that worked well enough for them: she imposed a rationing on his alcohol – enough for him to fight his demons, not enough for him to get too drunk – and he held her when she needed to keep the nightmares at bay. It wasn't perfect of course, there were bad days, days when he drank himself to oblivion and she stared at the wall for hours, rocking back and forth like a frightened child.

But mostly, there were good days. Those were his favorite. They'd bicker over breakfast, he'd feed his geese while she'd complain that his pets hated her and wanted to eat her alive – she loved the geese, deep down he was sure of it – she'd dragged him around to some place she must absolutely go to or they'd simply stay in, she would read a book, sometimes aloud for his benefit, and he would spend half the day looking at her and wondering how it all could have ended so well, they'd bicker some more at some point, they'd kiss, they'd make up, he'd cook because she was hopeless at it, and they'd live. Simply. Easily. Those days were perfect.

Which was why he had left District Four sooner than he had intended to. He missed his home, his geese and, above all, he missed Effie, even if he would never admit as much aloud.

The morning air was brisk and a sheer contrast with the warm temperatures he had left behind in Four. He quickened his pace, something resembling contentment blossoming in his chest when the house came into view. The door was unlocked, of course, because despite everything he said, it always slipped her mind to lock it. He let himself in and dropped his bag in the hall before making his way to the living-room because that was where she usually was at this time of day.

And there she was, tight black pants and white blouse – _cream, really, Haymitch!_ – hair tied up into a neat ponytail at the top of her head. There she was, locked into an embrace with a man sporting a flaming blue wig, too much make-up and blinding colorful clothes. Capitol. There she was, back in the arms of the _Capitol_.

It was a wonder she had not gone back to wearing wigs, short dresses and high heels, he thought, noticing the ten or so boxes scattered around the living-room, the opened trunk overflowing with objects – it was unbelievable the number of things she had collected since she had moved in – she had obviously been packing. Oddly, he stared at the pink curtains still hanging in front of the windows. Of course, she would leave those horrid things he had only agreed to, despite Katniss' daily teasing, because he was tired of fighting over the whole thing.

Effie was _packing_, he concluded, in the split second it took the couple to notice his presence. It had always been a possibility, he reminded himself. She had never said it would be forever. She had never said… Of course, she was packing. Why would she stay there? Why would she stay with _him_?

"Haymitch!" she exclaimed, stepping away from her… he couldn't bring himself to even think the word _lover_. The idea of her with someone else… It was _so_ _painful_… "I didn't expect you before tomorrow." Her smile was bright and loving as it always was when she smiled at him. She walked towards him but stopped halfway there, a frown on her face. "What's wrong? Is it the children? Did something happened?"

They weren't children anymore, he wanted to say, but the words were stuck in his throat. He was looking at the blue parrot in the middle of his living-room and wondering if he was still fit enough to stab him with his knife, if his blood would be bright blue too, if the geese would help him get rid of the body… He was thinking of a hundred different ways of murdering this stranger and it sickened him to know he could actually _do_ _it_. He hadn't thought that way since they had come back to Twelve, after the rebellion. That was over. That was…

"Oh, how remiss of me! This is Ruffio." She gestured to the parrot. "He's a friend."

The silence on his part was probably awkward for them if the way they were fidgeting was any indication. Too bad.

"I have to go, Effie, or I will miss my train." The parrot said, taking her hand in his and squeezing once. "Call me about the rest of your things, okay? You can stay at my place, it's really not a problem."

It would have been more merciful of them to stab him in the heart. He watched as she kissed the parrot's cheek and bade him a good journey back and… He stepped into the man's way when he headed to the door. It was only instinctive.

He could kill him. So, so _very_ _easily_. He looked frail and breakable and had probably never fought with anybody his whole life. Haymitch wouldn't even need his knife, he realized. He could snap his neck where he stood.

And then what?

Imprison Effie forever? Keep her there against her will? He would never do that. Never. Even he wasn't that selfish.

So he turned around and marched into the kitchen, bearing down on the cupboard and the liquor he kept there. He didn't even bother with a glass, he took a long mouthful, hoping to deafen the noise of their goodbyes. It didn't work. He slumped on a chair and drank some more, pretending hard he hadn't noticed her coming into the kitchen and sitting in front of him. However, the hand she put quietly on his to stop his compulsive drinking, _that_, he couldn't ignore.

"I'm sorry." she said softly. "I knew you would be upset, that's why I thought it would be a good idea to do it while you were in Four. Why didn't you tell me you were going to come back earlier?"

Should he apologize for interrupting her cheating on him in his _own bloody house_? Was it bad manner or something?

"I missed you." he spat, pulling his hand back to take another mouthful. "How ridiculous is that? You know… You were the last person I've ever expected to betray me."

She winced a little. "I'm sorry. I really thought it would be better if you weren't there."

"Would you even have told me?" He passed a hand in his hair, fretfully. The kitchen seemed small, the mood was oppressive and he wanted nothing more than to run away from all of that, go to the geese maybe or to Katniss' and Peeta's, but he couldn't move. He couldn't do anything except watching her closely and waiting for her to stand up and dash after her parrot of a friend.

"Well… I figured _even you_ would notice at some point." Effie sighed before going to pour herself a glass of orange juice – a thing he never kept in his fridge before she came to live with him. He was stunned and hurt by the careless way she was sipping her drink. Like it all meant nothing.

"Do you hate me that much?" It sounded desperate and he was ashamed of the raw pain he wasn't able to hide. He couldn't believe her to be so cruel… Would she really have done it? Let him come back to an empty house without a single word of explanation? "What did I ever _do_ to you?"

She lifted an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "I would say you have done plenty. Let's see… All those years, you left me to do all the work while you drank yourself to oblivion and _then_ you made me take care of you… You left me behind when you went to 13…" The smile disappeared completely then and her hands began shaking so much she almost dropped the glass.

"The team was supposed to get to you." Haymitch growled. "You know that. I would never have left you there if…"

"I know." It was breathless and she rubbed at her eyes. "I know, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"No?" He got up a little too violently, the chair he was sitting on clattered to the ground. "Because I think _you do_ and what's all this then? Your way of punishing me?!"

She flinched and seemed to shrank back on herself. "Stop shouting. _Please_."

"You're leaving me, you don't even have the courage to tell me and you want me to… What? _Shut up_?" He nearly laughed at the alarmed look she shot his way. Was she afraid of him? What was she thinking? That he would _hurt_ _her_? As if he ever could! He couldn't bear it. He couldn't bear the primitive glint of fear shining in her eyes. It was the same that was always there after the nightmares. He snatched the bottle from the table before turning around and storming through the back door. "Finish your packing, Princess. I don't want you here when I come back. You can spend the night at the kids' if you have to."

He slammed the door behind him and it felt good for a minute. He had a right to be angry. He had a right to shout and be hurt and ordered her out of his life like the cheated spouse he was. Thinking about this… _man,_ or any man really, putting his hands on her, kissing the skin that was his and his alone… It made his blood boil. But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was the hole she was going to dig in his heart when she'd get on that train back to the Capitol. He didn't know if he could learn how to live without her again. He wasn't a hopeless romantic – or a romantic at all, really. After the Capitol had killed his family and his girlfriend, he had closed himself to love. But then came Effie and her ridiculous stubborn determination to take care of him… He loved her so much it scared him sometimes. He would kill for her, of course, but that wasn't a hard thing to do for him: killing had become a second nature at some point. It was worse, he loved her so much he was willing _to live_ for her instead of merely existing.

When he reached the paddock, the geese, at least, seemed happy to see him. Not that they knew the difference between him and any other human bringing them food… He leaned on the fence, the arm holding the bottle falling uselessly in the pen. One of the goose, braver than the rest, investigated the odd object, its beak tapping the glass restlessly.

The cackles of the gaggle alerted him of her presence. They were useful that way: his personal alarm.

"I don't want a second round, Effie." he snarled, keeping his back to her. "You may catch the last train if you leave now. I will have the girl send you the rest of your stuff." Or, more probably, Peeta would do it while Katniss dragged him to the wood in an attempt to take his mind off it all.

"Haymitch." Her voice was insecure and shaky, like it always was before and after one of her panic attacks. Usually, he would gather her in his arms at that point and remind her that she was safe, that they were all safe. Well, the parrot would see to that now. She didn't need him anymore.

"I don't want your apologies." He was so sure she was going to offer him excuses of some sort. She was always so set on proper behavior, he couldn't imagine she wasn't feeling a tiny bit guilty for leaving after everything… "Please, do it now, sweetheart." Because he didn't trust himself not to run after her and beg and more generally make a fool of himself if she further delayed her departure.

He heard her coming closer but he didn't actually expect the arms that sneaked around his torso. She pressed against his back, her forehead on the back of his neck.

"I'm not leaving." she whispered. "I knew you wouldn't like my friend coming over because he's from the Capitol and you still don't like Capitol citizens very much. So when you told me you were going to Four with the children, I asked him to do me a favor. He brought me most of the things I had left in my apartment, I plan on selling it because I don't see us using it anytime soon, so Ruffio offered me to stay with him when I go to the Capitol to actually put it up for sale. I was unpacking not packing." Her arms tightened around him. "I wouldn't leave you. I could _never_ leave you."

Haymitch closed his eyes, finding it a lot easier to breathe properly all of a sudden. "So you and your parrot friend you're not…"

She propped her chin up on his shoulder. "You know… If I wasn't so sure I'm going to have a panic attack if we fight again right now, I would probably beat you with your bottle of liquor for asking me that. Is that what you think of me? That I would…"

"No." He turned around in her arms, framing her face in his hands. "No." He kissed her, hard. "I'm sorry. I saw you two…"

"Hugging, Haymitch." she sighed. "It's called hugging. If I freaked out every time you hug Katniss…"

"Katniss is family." he pointed out, holding her tighter. "This guy… And the boxes… I… I thought…"

"I'm never leaving you." she vowed again, rising on her tiptoes to kiss him. "And _never_ accuse me of hating you ever again. I couldn't bring myself to hate you even when… even when they were saying I was _there_ because of you. I didn't hate you then, I certainly don't hate you now. If you don't trust me…"

"I trust you." he promised, kissing her cheek, her neck, her lips… "I _love_ you."

She leaned against him heavily, obviously not too steady on her feet. She didn't like thinking about her time in the Capitol prison, it usually triggered flashbacks or nightmares, yet, she clang to him with all her strength.

"Good." she said, against the side of his neck. "Because I love you too and I'm not going anywhere."


	8. No Fun for Effie Means No Fun for Haymit

perhaps a prompt where at a party or something Effie ends up falling over and hurting herself and she complains so much that Haymitch ends up getting sick of her voice and takes her home idk make of that what you will c:

_**No Fun for Effie Means No Fun For Haymitch **_

The party was raging on around them, music pounding through speakers and the constant buzzing of the crowd making it hard to hear anything, a fact for which Haymitch was particularly grateful given that hostility was radiating from Effie in waves. He didn't understand what changed between the elevator where she had actually been talking his ear off with her chatter about how _amazing_ the victory party was going to be that year because it had been planned by some famous party planner and the ten ridiculous minutes he had left her side to grab both of them glasses of punch. It was the last time he ever bothered with courtesy, she was sipping her drink, glaring at everyone over the rim of her glass.

"Okay." he said, when he couldn't take her silent disapprobation anymore. "What did I do? I'm not even drunk, yet." And he wasn't going to be with that wimpy thing they called punch… Worst of it was, it was the strongest liquor they offered at the bar. Her famous party planner obviously didn't know victors very well. "You know what, save it, I don't want to hear it. I will be over there with Chaff."

He nodded at District Eleven mentor who was waving his lump in the air to catch his attention. As usual, Finnick was sitting with him, two or three Capitol women squeezed on either side of him on the couch.

"I'm coming with you."

He glanced at her, surprised, but only shrugged. They usually split up at that kind of parties... They had a very different set of friends. Chaff's greeting was friendly enough but Haymitch didn't miss his displeasure at seeing his escort which, of course, soon turned to mirth and outright laughter when she stumbled. Finnick, who Haymitch suspected, had never grown out of his boyish crush for her, bolted to his feet and caught her before she could fall flat on her face.

"Are you alright, Effie?" The young man was more concerned that he ought to be, Haymitch decided. Her pride was probably hurt most than anything, really.

The Capitol women were having a blast, giggling and exchanging comments that couldn't be anything but mean.

"Careful, there, love…" Chaff sneered. "If heels are not you thing, you could always go barefoot."

"Easy, Chaff." Haymitch told him quietly, already tired of having to play the referee between the two of them. He took the armchair beside Chaff's, wondering why they found it necessary to add so many couches, chairs and loveseats… Was it a victory or a tea party?, he wondered. Effie perched on his armrest.

"Is this party awful or what?" Chaff sighed, once Finnick was back to his Capitol sandwich of giggling pink wigs.

"Brutus is having a blast." Haymitch noticed, watching the victor who was currently laughing with half a dozen people, obviously enjoying District Two's third win in a row. "What's that, though?" He waved his glass of punch. "Where's the good stuff?"

Chaff downed his own drink sadly. "Apparently, tonight that's the good stuff. New policy that won't last a year if anyone has anything to say about it…"

"This party is absolutely disappointing." Effie agreed, to Haymitch's upmost shock. She had raved and raved for days about the victory party… "Nothing to redeem it."

Chaff eyebrows shot up. "Am I dreaming or is Effie Trinket actually agreeing with me?"

"Don't start, Chaff." She chided him. "I'm not in the mood."

"Well, you're certainly _in_ a mood." Haymitch said, wondering if it would be considered improper to put a hand on her thigh so she would stop jerking her leg and trying to figure out how much he cared about _being_ improper. "What's gotten into you all of a sudden?"

"She seems her usually charming aggravating self to me…" Chaff joked.

Haymitch decided to keep his hand to himself, if the glare she was sending Chaff's way was any indication, Effie was ready for murder.

"A little bird told me Effie's mood has to do with a _secret_." Finnick stated, after sending his suitors away with a smile and a kiss. It was properly ridiculous.

"Don't be preposterous, Finnick, it doesn't suit you." Effie snapped. "I don't have any secret." She crossed her legs, making her dress riding up a few inches and Haymitch's eyes trailed a little longer than strictly necessary on the smooth creamy skin. "This party is boring. Absolutely boring, don't you think so, Haymitch?"

He hummed softly, still contemplating how soft her skin looked and if… He wasn't actually prepared for the little slap behind the head. "_Ow_! Are you _mad_?" It hurt.

She pulled her skirt down pointedly. "You are a pig."

Chaff laughed so loud Haymitch was half afraid he would sprain something.

Finnick clucked his tongue at Haymitch mockingly. "What would Seneca Crane think of that I wonder?"

Effie froze, Chaff stopped laughing and Haymitch frowned.

"What does Crane have to do with any of this?" he asked.

Chaff looked down, refusing to meet his eyes, and Finnick only smile like he knew all the secrets in the universe – which was irritating.

"_This_," Effie snapped, clearly upset. "is a _vile_ rumor that _your_" she pointed an accusing finger at Chaff despite the fact that it was absolutely rude which told Haymitch all he needed to know, really "escort got going around."

Chaff shrugged. "What do you want me to do? You don't see me being all friendly with _my_ escort, do you?" he glance pointedly at Haymitch but Haymitch chose not to understand. "I don't care who your boyfriend is or that it's the gossip of the evening, deal with your own mess."

"What's going on here, exactly?" He hated when everyone knew something but him.

"Effie is or is not going out with Seneca Crane and everyone is talking about it." Finnick summed up neatly for him. "It's threatening to overshadow Brutus' self-congratulatory party."

Haymitch paused and then finished his glass of punch. "I need more booze for this." he mumbled before looking up at Effie. "_Crane_? Really?"

"This is a _lie_." Effie hissed. "What is so difficult to understand in that sentence? Viola did it to spite me because I'm more popular than she is so she's trying to say that I'm getting… a special treatment. How can you even ask me… Oh, never mind. This is the worst party _ever_."

She got up and marched towards the bar. He watched her order another glass from afar, confused about what had just taken place right then.

Chaff whistled, apparently finding great delights in the situation. "There's a bright side. If she's truly shagging Crane you may very well win next year."

"You heard her, she said she wasn't." He didn't know why he was so defensive of her but… she was leaning against the bar, looking lost, and he didn't' like seeing her like that. "Your escort is the problem. She's a bitch. Always been."

"Aren't them all?" Chaff sniggered.

"Let's not go there." Finnick warned but, as usual, he got ignored.

"At least mine isn't following me like a lovesick puppy." Chaff scoffed. "A very _annoying_, very chatty, lovesick puppy."

"Don't talk about her like that." Haymitch growled.

"Why? Because you're so…"

"Chaff." Finnick cut in firmly, shaking his head. "Don't."

"Yeah, Chaff." Haymitch sneered, getting to his feet. "_Don't_."

Effie didn't look particularly surprised to see him coming to her. "I hate what they did this year." she began without even leaving him a chance to speak. "The colors are wrong and…" He tuned off the list of everything that didn't meet her standards, barely listening to how she twisted her ankle earlier and how it hurt like hell now – her fault for wearing those overly high heels – but he did notice a certain number of people were looking at her, most of them obviously gossiping, and how uncomfortable it made her feel.

"Okay, okay!" he exclaimed at last, when he couldn't bear her nagging any longer. "Let's go home. We can have our own pity party, there." At least, in the penthouse, there was enough alcohol to help him deal with the incessant chatter.

He pretended not to notice how relieved she look when they finally left or her slight limp, making sure she knew how insufferable she was for making him give up a perfectly nice party with his friends. He wouldn't want her to think he cared, after all.


	9. Finding Flowers

Prompt: Katniss encouraging either Effie or Haymitch to approach the other about their feelings.

_**Finding Flowers**_

"What are you doing, Haymitch?"

The question was obviously rhetorical but Haymitch still snorted before taking a mouthful of liquor. "Same thing I did yesterday, same thing I will do tomorrow. Getting drunk, sweetheart."

Katniss frowned and closed the back door behind her. She didn't sit on one of the kitchen chair, she didn't perch on the table like she sometimes did, she leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed her arms. Serious, then.

"How drunk are you right now?"

He sighed and took another swing at his bottle, wishing they would all leave him alone. "Unfortunately, not very."

"Good." Her scowl deepened. "Effie is in my living-room saying she's leaving on tomorrow train."

"Yeah, she told me." He couldn't help but chuckle bitterly. "It's only polite to inform your host first, after all. Thank him for his hospitality, his help, his _fucking_ caring…"

Effie had come to Twelve after the Rebellion because she hadn't known what else to do. Haymitch had taken her in, he had taken care of her, of her nightmares, of her panic attacks… It was sometimes more than he could cope with to look after her _and_ Katniss both. Never mind Peeta who hadn't been doing much better on his own… It had been hell for months before it eventually got better. And now that it was actually better… Now that the kids were as stable and sane as they were ever going to get… Now that she didn't startle awake every night crying and begging for mercy… Now, she was leaving.

"Do you want Effie to go back to the Capitol? Do you want Effie to leave? _Honestly_."

What was this? An interrogation? _Of course_ he didn't want her to leave. He would miss her incessant babbling to fill the silence – she hated silence – he would miss her awful cooking, he would miss the way they always ended up bickering because she was making sure he wasn't drinking too much and infuriating him in the process, he would miss the stolen kisses in the morning, beside the fireplace, he would miss… There was an endless list of all the things he would miss if she left.

"Not my choice, is it?" he grumbled, peering at the girl over the rim of his bottle. "She wants to go."

Katniss closed her eyes briefly like she usually did when she was exasperated. "Let me get the story straight. From what Peeta and I got from her, she told you that she had been here a very long time and that she, _maybe_, should go back to the Capitol now that she's better and… you did what?"

"What's it to you?" The bottle was half-empty now but alcohol wasn't comforting like it used to be. "I told her to do whatever she wanted to do."

"You are both exhausting, you know that, right?" Katniss sighed. "Did you mention that you love her and wished she would move here definitely _at any point_ in that conversation?"

"I never said I love Effie." He was getting defensive pretty quickly with that issue, even in his own mind. _Love_ was something he had trouble with. Love was dangerous and got a lot of people killed. It might be truly in the past now and things might have change, but…

"Don't you?" she mocked. "Because, you could have fooled me."

"I liked you better when you were clueless about that sort of things." He got up and started gathering the crumbs from the bread box in a cup for the geese.

Katniss watched him in silence until she obviously couldn't take it anymore. "Are you seriously doing that? Are you letting her walk away? Because I'm telling you right now this is the biggest mistake you will ever make."

"She wants to go." He slammed the cup on the counter. "What do you want me to do? Tie her on a chair in the basement?"

The girl wasn't impressed at all by his violent outburst. "_She_ _wants_ you to tell her you want her to stay here – and probably that you love her, too, but it's Effie, she knows you, she will settle for a 'don't go, sweetheart' or something like that."

"What are you talking about?" He frowned. "She said it was time for her to go back to the Capitol. She said she had stayed here long enough."

Katniss rubbed her eyes tiredly. "I should have chosen Effie. I bet Peeta is having it easier than me." She shrugged. "Look, she's afraid she's imposing on you and that you don't actually want her here."

"I showed her how I _actually_ _wanted_ _her_ here, last night."

Katniss made a disgusted face. "Please. I don't need to hear about that. _Ever_."

"You shouldn't lean against that particular spot, then." he joked, lifting an eyebrow.

The girl practically stumbled away from the counter. "That's…" She shook her head. "Okay, point is : she's insecure, she thinks she's convenient because she's here but that you don't really love _her_. And before you say anything about me not being an expert at relationships, _this_ is all Peeta."

"_This_ is bloody ridiculous." he grumbled.

"Yes, Peeta and I agree." Katniss smiled her smug irritating grin."Which is why you're going to cross the street and go all out. Flowers! She would love some flowers…"

He rolled his eyes. "I have to feed the geese."

"I will feed the geese while you pick the flowers." She said, taking the cup with the crumbs and pushing him toward the door. "Letting her go back, really… You two are worse than children sometimes."

"You're one to talk!" If he didn't like her so much, he probably would have strangled Katniss years ago.

"Yes, well…" she looked at him pointedly. "_I_'m living with Peeta who knows I love him, am I not? You, on the other hand, are in trouble. So, are you ready to lose Effie for a stupid misunderstanding?"

He searched her eyes for a few minutes and then sighed. "Where do we find flowers?"


	10. Hate at first sight

Original Prompt : What about a young Effie and Haymitch when they first meet, something about Effie watching his games and he wins then the next year Effie is giving the duty to be the escort from 12, what are his thoughts about her...

_**Hate at first sight**_

Haymitch hated her at first sight.

She was so loud he could hear her from inside the house, she wore blinding pink and she smiled like Christmas had come early. She stood on his porch, framed by the old mayor and the Head Peacekeeper and she looked absolutely too happy. She couldn't be older than him. Seventeen at most.

"Hello, there!" And her voice was entirely too cheerful. "My name is Effie Trinket, I am the new District Twelve escort. It's an absolute honor to meet you."

She offered him a white laced gloved hand.

He stared at the hand, he glanced at the mayor and then at the Peacekeeper. The two older men seemed rather amused. "Is she for real?"

The girl – what was her name? Trinket? Appropriate given her choice of profession – battled her fake eyelashes several times in confusion. "I assure you I _am_ the new escort. I know I'm a little younger than the norm but…"

"Oh, you could be twelve or forty for all I care." Haymitch crossed his arms pointedly.

Her smile faltered a little and she lowered her hand. "I was a big fan of yours, last year." she tried again. "I was slightly disappointed when I was appointed to District 12 but on the other hand I was so excited to work with you! We're going to be great friends, I'm sure of it."

He looked at the mayor who was trying really hard not to laugh. "Miss Trinket was adamant she wanted to meet you before the Reaping, Haymitch."

"Great." he deadpanned. "We've met. I will see you at the square."

He took pleasure in slamming the door in her face. What a clown!

"How _rude_!" he heard her shriek through the wooden door.

Oh, yeah… He was going to have a blast making her pay for every of her Capitol friends…


	11. Night Terrors

Original Prompt: Effie hears Haymitch having a nightmare on their way to the capitol for the next games just after his entire family and his girlfriend got killed, he hasn't started drinking yet so that's why the nightmares eat him alive and Effie tries to soothe him...

_**Okay, so I was under the impression that Haymitch's family had been killed rather early on, like just after his games? And he started drinking sooner rather than later I think, and given that Effie comes into the scene much later, I tricked the prompt a bit. Let's say they're still on the way to the Capitol but Haymitch had been out of booze for some times and it's been years since their death**_**. **

**_Night Terrors_**

_The flames were everywhere. They were licking at the wall, eating the whole house from roof to ground. Lizzie was inside, trapped. He could hear her screaming and hammering on the window. His mother's shouts for help had died down some time ago and his brother…_

"_Help me!" Lizzie was begging, banging on the window but it didn't break and Haymitch couldn't get to her. He couldn't move. He couldn't do anything but stare at her shape behind the glass. "Haymitch! Haymitch, help! Help! Haymitch!"_

"Haymitch, wake up!"

He jerked awake and automatically responded to the threat by attacking. The knife he always kept under his pillow snatched at the air.

"Stop! Stop, it's me. It's Effie. Haymitch, it's Effie."

"Effie." he repeated, feeling disoriented. He dropped the knife on the bed and took his head into his shaking hands. "We're on the train."

"Yes." she said. He felt the mattress dip beside him and then a hand came to rest carefully on the back of his head. "You had a nightmare, I could hear you from down the hall. You're safe, now." Safe. He would never be safe. Not anywhere and certainly not on a train to the Capitol. "Can I do something? Do you want a glass of water? Tell me what you need."

"I need liquor." His hands were shaking so badly… He couldn't tell if it was from the lack of alcohol in his body or from the vivid dream. "Please, I know you hate it but… _please_." He couldn't go on like that. He couldn't. Ripper had been out of alcohol for days and his own stock had died down quickly, it had came to a point where he had almost been happy for Reaping Day to happen because he had known there would be alcohol on the train, except _of course_ Effie would choose that year to specifically ask that they didn't take any booze or wine on board. "Please, sweetheart, _please_."

He didn't mind begging. At that moment there wasn't anything he wouldn't have done for some alcohol. Everything to keep the memories out of his mind.

"I'm _so_ sorry, Haymitch." she said, running her fingers through his hair soothingly. "It's only a few hours until we get to the Capitol… I feel terrible about all this."

He let himself fall on his side and put his head in her lap, curling up as much as he could. "Don't let me fall back asleep. I don't want to sleep."

She kept petting his hair. "What did you dream about?" He felt her tense a bit under his cheek. "You don't have to tell me, of course. How rude of me to ask… But you always seem so… _distant_ I can't help but wonder what the nightmare was about… Is it just because of the alcohol or…"

"The fire." he mumbled. "Always the fire. The arena sometimes. The tributes I couldn't save too. All those ghosts… I need liquor, Effie. I can't face them without it, I _can't_."

A part of him knew he would regret telling her those things in the morning, but the rest was so focused on wanting a drink that he didn't care.

"You're the strongest man I know, Haymitch. Of course you can." she said, and he almost believed her. Almost.

He shook his head no. "She's there when I close my eyes. They're _all_ there, waiting for me."

"Who's _she_?" she asked. "You were screaming for a Lizzie, are you talking about her? Who is she?"

Who was Lizzie… Thinking about Lizzie was painful. Worse than painful, it was pure _agony_.

"My girlfriend." The word seemed weird somehow. Ten years too late. "They killed her. They killed them all… My family…"

"What? Who? Who killed them?" She sounded horrified, her hand stilled on his head.

"Who do you think?" He closed his eyes to escape the bright pink of her nightgown – why did everything had to be pink with her? – but opened then quickly again. Too much ghosts were waiting behind his eyelids… "They said it was an accident but fire never happen accidently in the Seam. People are too careful. We didn't even live near Lizzie's. Two fires three streets apart, it's like they didn't even try to make it look legit…"

"You can't talk like that, Haymitch." she scolded him softly.

"Why?" he snarled. "Because you don't believe me?"

"You know why." She gripped his shoulder tightly. "Don't do that."

She was afraid to be associated with that kind of treason talk or maybe she was afraid for him, he didn't know. He didn't care. He could still smell the fire in his dream, he could still see the flames licking the walls…

"I thought I was coming home to them." he confessed, turning his head to watch her in the darkness. Her face was bare of make-up, her hair tucked in a casual braid on her shoulder… She looked human. She looked… _Sad_. "The only things waiting for me there were three fresh graves. Nothing left. _No_ _one_ left."

A few tears escaped her eyes and rolled on her cheeks but she was obviously trying hard to keep herself in check. "I am _so_ sorry."

"If I had died in the arena, they would still be alive." He had never said that aloud, he had never told anyone, but it was his deepest guilt and his greatest secret.

"No." she objected immediately. "Don't think like that, Haymitch. I'm sure they would hate for you to think like that. They loved you, they'd probably want you to remember that."

"I'd rather be dead." He gave one shoulder shrug. "I think about it sometimes…"

He wasn't ready for the slap on his shoulder that left his skin stinging. It was good in a way, the pain made him feel more clear-headed, less… unsettled. The nightmare faded at the back of his head.

"Don't _ever_ say that to me _again_." Effie hissed. "I don't want to do all… _this_ alone. I _can't_ do this alone. And I certainly don't want to _lose_ _you_."

"Never knew you cared, sweetheart." It was a lie, of course. He knew she cared about him in her odd Capitol way. He cared about her too. She was bloody irritating but she also had a good heart.

"Are you trying to aggravate me?" she asked, pushing him a little – not enough to make his head fall off her lap but enough to get her point across. "I swear you're _impossible_!"

He winked at her lazily, before sitting up, stretching his arms above his head. He felt a little better, more awake certainly. It didn't do much for his thirst, though. "How long before we arrive in the Capitol?"

She glanced at the clock on his nightstand. "Another six hours."

He groaned and let his head fall back against the headboard. Too long. Absolutely too long. He needed liquor now. "Are you _sure_ there isn't anything worth drinking on this train?"

"I thought you would have some with you." she apologized. "You always do. I thought… I thought if you had to ration your own stock then you would be sober most of the train ride. I never wanted you to… to be in such distress."

"Now you make me sound like a damn damsel in need of rescuing, Princess." He sighed heavily. "I can make do until we arrive. Just… Don't let me fall asleep. Distract me."

"Distract you?"

"That's what I said."

She frowned. "How?"

"Well…" He smirked and lifted an eyebrow suggestively.

Her eyes widened and she crossed her arms defensively. "I'm not a toy for you to play with, you pervert."

"Shame…" His laugh was low and more regretful than he would have liked.

"Tell me about Lizzie." She asked suddenly.

He wished she hadn't, but he hadn't talked about her in so long… Nobody ever even mentioned her in Twelve, be it not to stir bad memories or because they deemed him responsible for her death. "She was… perfect in every way." He smiled slightly, remembering the way she always refused to play with the other girls at school. She was always running with the boys, climbing trees, fighting in the mud with them "She had quite a temper. She hated being told what to do or to not do… One time, she threw a bucket full of water at me because I said she would never win a race against me. She won, obviously."

Effie smiled. "I understand the urge to throw things at your head. I have to fight it frequently."

"Yeah… Well…" he shrugged. "I seem to be attracted to crazy women."

She picked at a loose thread on the cover. "Are you?" It was soft and uncertain and Haymitch didn't know where the sudden tension he could feel overrunning the room had come from.

"Am I what?" he asked.

She looked him in the eye. "Attracted to me?"

"When you're not dressed like a clown…" And sometimes even then, but he wasn't about to tell her that, it sounded too much like a compliment.

"You mean when I look like this." she said, gesturing to her face.

"I mean when you don't look like you just fell in a can of paint." He rolled his eyes. "What's so wrong with your face you feel the need to hide it under all that powder? Never mind the hair… It's so bloody ridiculous, you're so much prettier like…"

She kissed him before he even finished his sentence, a hand in his hair and the other clutching his shirt. "Nobody ever said something like that to me." she said before kissing him again, so slowly it was a sweet torture. His hand clenched her waist and he tried to take control of the kiss, except, of course, she didn't let him and they ended up kissing like they did everything else : fiercely and aggressively. His shirt flew first, and then he got lost in the overflow of sensations.

Nightmares and fear of falling asleep were far from his mind.

He didn't even notice when the train finally reached the Capitol.


	12. Sponsors Charming

Original Prompt : I kind of want story following this young Finnick where Effie sees him going with one of his clients and Effie tries to talk to him on one of the reunions before the games and he snaps at her telling her she is like everyone else on the capitol and just want a f*** with him and Haymitch see this and tries to confort a really emotional Effie…

_**Sponsors Charming**_

Effie didn't like what she was seeing in the sponsors lounge. There was "sponsors charming" and "sponsors_ charming"_ and what Finnick was actually doing with Augustus Rumple's wife was actually falling more into that second category. Nerilla Rumple had a reputation and Effie wasn't comfortable at all with the way she was looking at the boy. She looked like a wild beast about to pounce on a piece of meat. She searched the crowd for Mags but didn't see her anywhere… District Four escort, too, was nowhere to be found.

Leaving Haymitch at his fruitless discussion with two sponsors and two other victors, she marched towards Finnick and Nerilla. She liked the boy a lot. He was only sixteen but he always made the effort of being polite and even courteous to her, which was more than any other victor ever did. Given that Haymitch and Chaff had taken a liking to the boy, he was always trailing behind them and it fell down to her to make sure he didn't drink more than a glass of alcohol and didn't find himself in troubles because of those two stupid men. She liked to think they were on friendly terms. She certainly felt responsible for the boy when District Four escort wasn't around to look out for him. He was younger than most mentors, after all.

"My apologies." She interrupted Nerilla mid-sentence and didn't sound apologetic at all. It wasn't that serious an offense. Nerilla would never consider sponsoring District Twelve, anyway. "Finnick, may I have a word?"

She was expecting a smile but Finnick's face was stern and a little hostile. "I don't really have time, right now, Effie."

"Go ahead." Nerilla said sweetly, looking Effie up and down and clearly not being very impressed with what she was seeing. "Don't take too long, though, dear. The car is waiting outside. I will be by the elevators."

"What do you want?" Finnick hissed, once the woman was out of earshot.

Oh, it was bad. The poor boy obviously didn't know what he was walking in. "You are _not_ going out with that woman." Effie stated. Nerilla collected affairs with victors like Effie collected shoes: compulsively and not caring who she might hurt in the process. "You have to be really careful what sort of people you associate yourself with, Finnick. Let me deal with Nerilla and we can…"

"We can what?" the boy laughed bitterly which shocked her into silence. That was the kind of laugh she would expect from Haymitch or Chaff but not sweet little Finnick. "Do you want to have a go too, Effie?" He had raised his voice slightly and she could feel several pair of eyes turning their way, gossips would start to spread in a few seconds she was sure of it, but she was more concerned with the accusation thrown her way. "Well? Is that it? Do you want to rent a room maybe?"

She opened and closed her mouth, feeling hurt, angry and confused. She was ten years older than him, if anything she regarded him as a younger brother, to be accused of... of… "Don't be ridiculous!" she said at last. "That's preposterous!"

There was a wild glint in Finnick's eyes. Had he been drinking? Had he taken anything stronger than alcohol? There were more than one kind of drugs going around… Had Nerilla given him something? She wouldn't put anything past that horrid woman…

"Is it?" he said, lower. "Because I'm beginning to think all you Capitol people want is a piece of my ass."

"Finnick!" she exclaimed, shocked.

"What's going on, here?" Haymitch cut in, placing a hand on the small of her back. "Not that I care but everyone is looking at you so smile and stop shouting, people."

"What's going on!" she whispered angrily, keeping his comment in mind. "Nerilla is trying to seduce Finnick and I think he's intoxicated, _that's_ what's going on."

Haymitch's face grew somber, he and Finnick exchanged a look she didn't understand at all.

"Go." he said. "Don't make her wait any longer."

"What? Are you mad?" Effie grabbed Finnick's arm before he could go anywhere but the boy shook her hand off angrily.

"If you want to fuck me that much, Effie, take an appointment." Finnick growled.

"Would you stop with those ridiculous…"

"Finnick, go." Haymitch cut her off. "You, come with me."

He didn't actually give her a choice in that. He blocked her arm under his and forced her to walk arm-in-arm with him.

"What are you doing?" she hissed. "We can't let…"

"Sweetheart, if you ever trusted me at any point in your life, shut up, _now_." he snapped, leading her through the room.

"But…" She could feel tears beginning to gather behind her eyes. "The things he said to me… It was… It was very upsetting."

His thumb stroked her skin discreetly but he didn't say anything else. He steered them toward a group of victors in a corner: Seeder, Chaf, two other from Two she had never been introduced to. They all made small talk but she stayed silent most of the conversation, focusing on not making a spectacle of herself by bursting into tears in the middle of a sponsoring reunion and also worrying about Finnick who was certainly going to fall for Nerilla's fake fondness. He was _so_ young, so innocent…

Some people came and went into their little group, Haymitch made a point of laughing with some of them and talking a lot more than he usually did. He also went easy on the liquor, she noticed because he kept waving his empty glass around while he talked and it ended up in front of her face more often than not.

Dinner time couldn't come soon enough as far as she was concerned. She had never been so happy to leave one of those reunion. She was even more happy to see she would have a hour to herself before their tribute came back from training.

"You've been very quiet." Haymitch said, once they were alone in the elevator.

"You've been very sober." she shot back, folding her arms in front of her chest in a parody of a hug.

Instead of getting angry, though, he just looked at her with sadness. "You're still upset."

"Of course I'm still upset." She stepped out of the elevator and waved off the Avox offering a tray with drinks on it. Haymitch, of course, immediately seized a glass full of a dark brown liquid that could only be whiskey. "I just don't understand why he would say something like that. I thought we were good friends. I'm worried about him. Nerilla is… He's so young! She will take advantage and break his heart. And anyway… He's too young! You know what she's like!"

He closed the living-room door behind them. She was a little surprised he hadn't interrupted her mid-rant. He did that a lot.

"Oh, yeah, I do know what she's like" He sipped his drink slowly. "She was already here ten years ago."

He slumped on the couch and tapped the cushion beside him, probably indicating that she should sit with him in his rude and bad mannered way, but she was too stunned to move. "_You_ had an affair with Nerilla?"

Was there _a_ _single_ male victor she hadn't had an affair with?

"I wouldn't call it an affair." He wrinkled his nose in obvious displeasure. "Point is, sweetheart, when Nerilla wants something, you don't stand in her way."

"Finnick is too young." She crossed her arms angrily and stared down at him. "How can you not see my point, here? He's _sixteen_, he's too young for… the kind of things Nerilla will ask of him. That's _indecent_ and _improper_."

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "How wealthy are you?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" she said, walking up and down the length of the room nervously. She should do something. It was not right to stay there and do nothing while…

"Why do you always answer my questions with another question?" He sounded annoyed.

"Because your questions are always rude, that's why." She wondered if she should go back to the elevator and pop for a visit on the fourth floor. Maybe Mags would be more inclined to listen to her than Haymitch. She loved the boy dearly, everyone knew that.

"Average? A little above average? Come on, Princess." Haymitch insisted. "Is Daddy influent or not?"

She knew from experience he wouldn't let it go so she sighed. "My family is well off but we're not _that_ wealthy compared to others and I wouldn't say my father is particularly influent, no. I made quite a lot of money when I was modeling, though." She added that last part with some pride.

"Not as wealthy as the likes of Nerilla, in short." He made the whiskey twirl around in his glass. "Don't set your eyes on something you can't afford when people with money and power desire it, that's common sense."

She stopped pacing, horrified. "Are you saying she was trying to coerce Finnick into doing something he wasn't comfortable with?"

Haymitch closed his eyes briefly. "I'm saying I know you were trying to help but stay out of it before _you_ get hurt. Don't go around annoying that kind of people if you don't have the guns to shot back with."

"But…" She was beginning to connect the dots and she didn't like the picture it was drawing. "It's not right. We should report her."

"Effie, you can't be _that_ naïve." He was beginning to get annoyed with her, she could see it. "How long have you been an escort, now? You must know what goes on behind closed door." It was probably written on her face that she obviously didn't because he sighed and put his half-empty glass on the coffee table. "Victors are available for a price. You want one, any of them, you pay, that's as simple as that. Every sponsor knows it."

Her knees weakened and she felt the need to sit down. "That's prostitution." she said, calmly, once she was settled beside him. He didn't say anything but put a hand on her leg and squeezed gently. "Finnick is _so_ young. It's… It's not right, Haymitch. None of this is." She could feel tears rolling down her cheeks and dabbed at them quickly with her gloved fingers. There would be a stain but she was hardly going to worry about that now. "And the things he said about me… Does he really believe that? Does he really…"

"No." he promised, squeezing her leg again comfortingly. "He's still new to that kind of things. He still cares. He was angry and frustrated. You're his friend, he knows that."

"That's unfair." She said again and, that time, she couldn't refrain a sob.

"Welcome to my world, sweetheart." he mocked, but he opened his arms a little hesitantly and she accepted his embrace willingly. She needed a friend right now and Haymitch gave great hugs. He engulfed her in his arms and she clang to him, burrowing her face in his shoulder.

She was trying to devise a way to help Finnick out of his predicament when something downed on her and she leaned back a little to look at him properly. "Did they force you to do that too?" It was a stupid question. They obviously did, he had practically admitted as much when he had talked about Nerilla – that vile woman! She would gladly rip her eyes off.

"Does it matter?" He tried to sound detached but he didn't let her go and she held him even tighter. "I'm too expensive for you anyway, sweetheart."

She frowned, a little hurt. She knew he was only joking but… "I would never do that. To anyone."

"I know." he replied softly before giving her one of his familiar smirks. "And I would never make you pay. Lucky you."

She rolled her eyes but rested her head on his shoulder once again.

"Don't do that again." He warned her, in a low voice, after a few minutes. "You nearly caused a scene today. Nerilla is a real bitch. That's dangerous."

"I can handle myself." She had been navigating that kind of dramas all her life. It was all about saying the right thing to the right people…

"Don't make me worry about you, Effie." That's how she knew he was being extremely serious. He hardly ever called her by her first name otherwise. "There's a thin line between victors and escorts and about a thousand ways to hurt or control someone."

What he was implying made her shiver in horror. "I understand."

His arms tightened around her. "Good."

"We should check on the children. They must have come up by now." she sighed but didn't move right away. She felt exhausted.

"You go. I want another drink before dinner." But he didn't move either.

They stayed like that for the longest time, just nested against the other, not even talking… And then, the female tribute opened the door – without knocking, which was absolutely bad manners – and Effie bolted away from Haymitch guiltily. The girl seemed torn between amusement and disgust. Haymitch pretended not to notice anything and grabbed the whole bottle of liquor but, for once, Effie didn't reproach him his excessive drinking. If she had been given a choice, she would have done exactly the same thing.

She wished there was a way for her to forget the whole ordeal.


	13. Sweet Victory

Original Prompt : Still taking promts? One were hayffie kiss after they realized katniss and peeta had won️

_**Sweet Victory**_

Haymitch bolted to his feet when Katniss pulled out the berries from her pocket. "What is she doing? Tell me she's not… " But she did. She offered some berries to Peeta and they leaned against each other, back to back, their free hand clasped tight.

"Oh, this is not good." Effie was nervously biting her thumb, still sitting on the couch but leaning closer to the screen, her elbows on her knees. Haymitch didn't know how she could be so calm, she usually was a bundle of nerves and now that there actually was a reason to get excited she seemed too shocked to move. "This is not good, is it?"

Was the fact that both their tributes were threatening to commit suicide rather than play the game good? Absolutely not.

"Is she tricking him?" Effie asked when he didn't answer. "Is she going to…"

She stopped talking when it became obvious Katniss wasn't trying to trick Peeta into anything. They were going to eat those berries and Haymitch was going to get in _so much_ troubles…

"Give me the booze, sweetheart, I'm too sober for that crap." He had discarded the wine sometimes after the muts had chased them to the Cornucopia. She rummaged between the cushion for the bottle but she didn't have time to find it before Claudius Templesmith's voice rang out announcing that the two victors of that year were Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. It didn't even register right away. It was surreal. It was…

"Did we win?" Effie's voice was as disbelieving as he was feeling. "Did we actually _really_ win?"

He watched as the hovercraft appeared on screen, Katniss and Peeta hugging next to the Cornucopia… He glanced down at Effie who was still staring at the screen, a bit shocked. "I think so. I… Yes. We did."

She looked up at him then and grinned like she was absolutely mad. "We won." she said "_We won, _Haymitch." She burst out laughing and he did too because, _they_ _had_ _won_. He held out his hand for her and she took it, letting him haul her to her feet and into his arms. "We won, we won, we won!" she kept chanting in his ear and he tightened his embrace but couldn't stop laughing long enough to reciprocate the sentiment. She leaned back a little, bouncing on her feet in excitement. "You did it, you did, you made us win! Oh, Haymitch, you are _amazing_!"

He didn't know how it happened. One second she was beaming at him, the next, he was framing her face with his hands and kissing her like there would be no tomorrow. It took him a few seconds to realize her lips were unresponsive under his. How embarrassing and potentially awkward if he were one to care for that sort of things… "Sorry, Princess, got carried away." He cleared his throat and let go of her face, intending to step back, find a bottle of wine and act as if nothing had happened, but she grabbed his waistcoat before he could actually move. Her mouth crashed against his, their noses bumped and he had to tilt his head to kiss her properly again. It was oddly perfect because of its imperfection.

"We have to go down." she said, between two kisses. He would love to answer but he couldn't seem to let go of her mouth long enough to form words. "I'm serious… They will be waiting for us."

"Let them wait." he growled, nibbling at her lower lip. "It's our night."


	14. Connection

Original Prompt : do a funny one where the team including the stylists try to put together haymitch and effie, please ! *-*

_**Connection **_

"Dancing is about connecting with your partner." Effie scolded them. "Katniss, you have to trust Peeta to lead."

Peeta was more worried about having his feet stomped upon than leading a waltz. For all her qualities, Katniss wasn't a very good dancer. Effie had deemed it necessary for them to learn how to dance before they reached the Capitol for the party at President Snow's mansion, which had led to an evening of endless entertainment for Haymitch and their stylists. Cinna and Portia were kinder than their former mentor, obviously, but still found the whole thing rather funny. They were all sitting on the various couches that had been pushed as far against the wall as possible to clear a dancing space in the center of the room, and were watching with amusement as Effie ordered them about with useless advices. Katniss was growing distinctly uncomfortable in his arms and Peeta was quickly becoming frustrated with the whole thing.

Haymitch's laugh filled the living-room cart. "That is _never_ going to happen, sweetheart."

"Please, Haymitch, if you have nothing helpful to say, then, refrain from speaking." Effie snapped. Peeta and Katniss exchanged a look and rolled their eyes. Sometimes they were like an old married couple : absolutely insufferable. "Now, children, try again. One, two, three… One, two, three…"

"Does she know there are other numbers than one, two, three?" Katniss hissed for his ears only, watching her feet anxiously.

"No, no, no!" Effie sighed, clasping her hands. "You're doing it wrong."

"Why don't you show us?" Peeta suggested, diplomatically. He was kind of afraid Katniss would lose the thin margin of patience she had left. That, and his feet _could_ take a break from being stepped on. "I think it would be easier if we could just watch first."

"Actually, that's a very good idea." Cinna said, kindly. "And I'm dying to dance."

He stood and held a hand out to Portia who gracefully got to her feet. In a matter of seconds, they were twirling around the room, laughing and smiling like they were having the time of their life. Peeta slumped on the couch they had vacated in relief.

"Here." Effie said, a little wistfully, coming to stand between the couch they were sitting on and Haymitch's chair. "You can see they just click together."

What Peeta could see was that Cinna and Portia obviously cared a great deal for each other and he didn't understand what it had to do with dancing. He cared for Katniss and that didn't make either of them a great dancer. And given the thoughtful way she was watching Cinna and Portia, he doubted all this had anything to do at all with them learning how to dance anyway. He nudged Katniss with his elbow and stared pointedly at Effie and then at Haymitch. Her eyes widened a little bit and she smirked, mischief written all over her face.

"Can _you_ dance, Haymitch?" Katniss asked, innocently enough.

The glare Haymitch sent her way was anything but innocent, it promised a thousand deaths. "Not if I can help it."

"But you will have to dance at the President's mansion too, won't you?" Peeta said, flying at Katniss' rescue. "Don't you need to practice?"

Cinna and Portia stopped dancing and came closer to hear the conversation. It didn't take much more than a look for them to understand what Katniss and Peeta were up to.

"Haymitch isn't actually that bad at dancing." Effie piped in, unexpectedly. "We had to do our fair share of that along the years."

"Isn't he, now?" Cinna's smile was slow and amused. "What about a friendly competition, then? Katniss and Peeta can be the judges."

"I'm not dancing." Haymitch refused, sipping his glass of wine.

"Are you afraid to lose?" Katniss teased, leaning smugly against the back of the couch. "I think Cinna is the better dancer."

"Or maybe Cinna has the right partner. Like I said, dancing is about connecting with your partner…" Effie pointed out. "It's easier when you dance with someone you love or care for, at the very least."

"Doesn't make it easier for me." Peeta mumbled but Katniss nudged him a little, reminding him what they were trying to do. "Come on, Haymitch, you have to dance, now! It's a challenge. You can borrow Katniss." Gladly. Why would his feet be the only ones to suffer?

Haymitch snorted. "Wouldn't be much of a competition, then. That girl has two left feet."

"Well, the solution is rather obvious, isn't it?" Portia smiled. "You have to dance with Effie."

"With me? Oh, no, no, no…" Effie said, blushing a little. "Not after last time."

"What happened last time?" Peeta asked.

Haymitch and Effie exchanged _a look_ and a slow smirk blossomed on their mentor's lips that made Effie turn crimson. "Dancing doesn't sound so bad, after all." Haymitch put his glass down on the ground and got up, holding out a hand to Effie, before staring down at Cinna playfully. "Prepared to be humiliated?"

Cinna only bowed a little in front of Portia and they were waltzing around the room again, obviously not concerning themselves with counting to three. Effie and Haymitch were slower. It took an awful amount of time for her to place a hand on his shoulder and for them to start moving. Like Portia and Cinna, they never glanced down at their feet – a feat, Peeta and Katniss would probably never be able to achieve – but were staring into each other's eyes. They didn't laugh, they didn't smile, but never, _ever_ looked away from each other.

"Talk about a connection." Peeta sighed.

Katniss rolled her eyes. "President Snow could come in and they wouldn't even notice."

Cinna and Portia were graceful and made waltzing look easy but Effie and Haymitch… Peeta wasn't even sure they were actually waltzing. They were gliding around in small circles, looking at each other like it was the only thing that mattered… Haymitch was holding her much closer than what Effie had deemed proper for Katniss and him.

The song changed, then. No more waltz but something slower, a tad melancholic but also loving, the dancers slowed down, adjusting to the rhythm. Katniss huddled closer to Peeta and leaned her head on his shoulder. Forgetting the pretence of the waltz, Effie slid both of her arms around Haymitch's neck, he held her around the waist and they just… swayed slowly, still gazing into each other's eyes. For a few minutes, it was like a spell had been cast on the living-room cart.

And then the song ended and they stepped apart awkwardly. Effie cleared her throat. "I think that's enough for tonight. We should all get some rest."

They all agreed readily with that idea. Katniss and Cinna were the first to exit the cart, Peeta and Portia right behind them. Effie and Haymitch lingered in the room, so Peeta slowed down because he actually wanted to know at what time they were supposed to get up the next morning and Effie was the one with this information. Portia stopped too, a smile on her lips. "So, would you say Haymitch won this little competition?"

The melancholic notes of the last song escaped from the living-room cart again and they frowned at each other before curiously – but _discreetly_ – peering into the room. Haymitch was standing near the gramophone and was looking at Effie with an honest smile – not a smirk, not a sneer but a _smile_. Peeta's eyebrow shot up near his hairline.

"One last dance, Princess?" Haymitch's outstretched hand didn't remain empty for long.

"It's always one last thing or another with you." Effie sighed but took his hand and let him put his arms around her. They weren't dancing as much as embracing each other. They didn't even sway, just… hugged. "One last glass of wine, one last bottle, one last dance, one last kiss…"

"I would say he certainly won something." Peeta whispered to Portia, at last, a bit uncomfortable with what they were spying on. "We should…" But Haymitch's voice cut him before he could suggest to leave them alone.

"I don't like the idea of last times, that's all." Haymitch pressed a kiss to the side of her neck and Peeta really wanted to get out of there now. "All the more so when you're concerned. If it were up to me I would never stop kissing you."

Portia tugged lightly on his arm and they retreated to the corridor, quietly closing the door behind them.

"Well." His stylist said, clearly finding the situation funny enough. "Here we were, thinking ourselves clever and subtle but I don't think they needed our help at all, after all."

"No." Peeta agreed with a smile. "I don't think they did."


	15. Broken Glass

original prompt : I wanna make a request i wanna see some drama between the two.. what about on one of the games Effie gets sick of Haymitch attitude towards their tributes and after she saw them got killed shes had enough and go on a full rampage on him, yelling at him on how he is that he is not helping anyone and she makes the mistake on bringing out his games saying "no wonder Maysilee, got killed, you are selfish..." Haymitch reacts at that and pin her into a wall to the point of almost hiting her or something as huge as that.. of course that was what Effie wanted she wanted him to react so she is not afraid of him when he does that and you can go from there...

_Just a bit of warning this prompt is quite... intense at some point. I would up the rating to T for that one. _

_**Broken Glass**_

"You are the most despicable man I have ever met !"

Haymitch laughed, a little bitterly, but let the insult slide on him, more concerned with taking another swallow of wine. "And I bet you have met your fair share of them…"

Effie stopped pacing in front of him to face him properly. If she had been fuming before, now she was livid. "Are you calling me a _tramp_?"

"Whatever rocks your boat, Princess." He waved his hand tiredly. "Now can you go and shout at someone else? I would like to get drunk in peace."

They had just lost their… what? sixth pair of tributes together – he has stopped counting in his case – and she was getting madder and madder each year. That year was particularly bad. That year the tributes had been twelve and thirteen and he hadn't even bothered going down to the sponsors lounge. What was the point? Too young, too skinny, too ugly to appeal to the Capitol masses. They had died within minutes of the Games' start. Effie had not reacted so well to the slaughter.

"Getting drunk!" she snarled, snatching away the bottle he had made the mistake of not holding tighter. "That's all you're good at, isn't it?"

Yes, it actually was.

"Now, give that back." he growled lazily. He didn't want to stand up and walk all the way to the liquor cart.

"Here." She threw the bottle at the wall. It blew up in a hundreds tiny fragments. "Maybe _now_ you will do something other than sit there."

"That was a waste of perfectly good liquor." He propped himself on the armrest to get up, whishing she would just shut up or go annoy someone else. Chaff was always eager to pick a fight with her or she could go and gossip with another escort, they were always clashing with each others.

"You care more for your liquor than you do for the tributes." she accused him.

"Very true." He nodded in agreement before stumbling towards the cart. He was a few drinks short of being wasted which was all very good in his opinion. How could she be quicker than him with those horrendous monstrous things she called heels? One second she was behind him, the next she was at the liquor cart and… "_Don't_ _you_ _dare_!"

But she _did_ dare. She pushed and it fall in a concerto of broken glass. The reek of alcohol filled the air as liquor soaked into the carpet, her shoes and more generally _everywhere_. Effie had a sneer on her face and was apparently oblivious a piece of glass had nicked at her calf, Haymitch could see the blood trickling on her ankle.

"What are you going to do, now?" she challenged him. "Lick the liquor off the floor? Are you that _desperate_?"

He did know that, had it been anyone else standing in front of him, he would probably have felt more angry than he did. "If _you'_re so desperate for a fight, go and find someone else. I'm not going into that with you right now."

He turned around, intending to call an Avox – there was more than one way to get alcohol in this city – but something hit him in the back of the head. He looked down to see a cushion at his feet. Well… At least, she hadn't thrown another bottle…

"Why are you like that?" The way she said it, it felt like an attack. There was loathing and anger and resentment… All she had _never_ given him before. "You could have helped them."

He faced her again, noticing the tears gathering in her eyes and the fists she kept clenching and unclenching. "I couldn't."

"You _didn't_." she yelled. He was quite sure they could hear her three floors down. "You could but you chose to do _nothing_. Like you _always_ _do_."

"If helping them was so easy then why didn't you do anything for them?" he replied angrily.

"I am _not_ their mentor!" She advanced on him, an accusing finger pointing in his direction. The pieces of glass crunched when she stomped on them. "I am here to help you _not_ to do your job for you. You did nothing. You sentenced them to death. _You_ _killed_ _them_."

Each of her words was a knife stabbing his heart. It wasn't anything he wasn't already thinking but…

"Did I or _did you_?" he snapped. "Who picked their names? Who brought them here? Who kept nagging at them about _their stupid manners_?"

She looked as if he had just slapped her. She took a step back. "Do you think I have a choice? Do you think resigning is _that easy _for an escort ? I'm _stuck_ here!"

"Well, so am I!" he shouted back. They stared at each other, furious, a little out of breath, and clearly fed up with the other. "Look, I get you're upset" he said, at last. "but I am _not_ letting you pile your guilt on me, I have enough of that on my own. Go have a good cry or a drink or even get laid but leave me _alone."_

"Yes, I'm upset." She admitted coldly. "There is every reason to be upset. The question is : why aren't you?"

"Because I don't care." He threw his arms up in frustration. "I _don't_ _give a fuck."_

"That's a lie." she scorned. "You want to pretend you don't care, that you're dead inside but that's a lie!"

"Oh, is it, now?" He could feel the snarl in his voice. He could feel himself getting too angry to deal properly with the situation. He should go away, leave her to her nervous breakdown and go to the eleventh flour where he would be welcomed. "Because you know me _so_ well, don't you?"

"Yes, I do." Effie growled and he wanted to tell her she was ugly when she sneered like that. "And it kills me when you act like that. Ignoring the pain won't make it go away. You're always running away, Haymitch, it's time to stop being a coward."

"Coward?" he repeated the word very slowly and very calmly even if he felt anything but that. "_You_ are calling _me _a coward ?" His hand gripped the back of the couch tightly.

"You scream for Maysilee in your sleep almost every night." she spat. "You _beg_ for her forgiveness."

It was the exact same sensation as having freezing water thrown at your face. He felt sober, too sober to deal with her. "Careful, Trinket."

But she was like a dog with a bone. "How can you help those children if you can't even put your own problems to rest?"

She was coming closer, her damn finger accusing him of things he didn't want to think about and he was about to snap. He could feel himself about to snap. "Don't go there." he warned one last time. "You _don't_ want to go there."

She was practically in his space now and he stepped back, needing to put some distance between them, but she kept going on and on and walking closer to him. "You couldn't save her but you could save those tributes. Or you could at least try and you won't because it's easier _for_ _you_ to pretend you don't care."

"I don't care." He growled. "I don't care about any of it. I would kill them myself if it could just make you shut up!"

Her glare was harsh but less harsh than her words. "No wonder Maysilee got killed. You are _selfish_."

He slammed her into the closest wall with a hand around her throat. He stilled his fingers at the last moment, stopping himself from squeezing. She was panting hard, her nails were digging into his wrist. He was dying to make her shut up, to make the words disappear, to make _her_ disappear. He could taste bile in his mouth, it tasted like the utter loathing he felt for himself. "Don't talk about Maysilee _ever again_." he said slowly, letting go of her throat. There was a glint of fear in her eyes and he hated it, he hated what he had almost done, he hated what he had become. He banged his fist against the wall, just above her head needing an outlet to that rage building in him. She didn't even flinch. "Shit, Effie, I could have _killed_ you!" He banged against the wall again but all she did was put her arms around his waist. "You need to be more careful, you need to…" She nestled against his chest and he had no choice but to hold her carefully. "I could kill you." he said again, resting his forehead on her shoulder.

"You would never hurt me." she clucked her tongue in disapprobation. "Don't be ridiculous, Haymitch. Of course, you wouldn't."

"I almost strangled you." he whispered. "I almost…" He choked up, he could feel the pressure of tears behind his eyes. "I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to hurt _you_…"

She ran her fingers through his hair soothingly. "You didn't, it's alright. I'm alright. I went too far. I was out of line."

He held her a little tighter. "You shouldn't come close to me. You shouldn't… I'm dangerous." But at the same time, he didn't want her to go away. He was selfish, that much was true.

Her hand was running up and down his back, the other one was still in his hair. She pressed a kiss to his temple. "The problem isn't that you don't care enough, Haymitch." she sighed. "It's that you care too much. I wish you could just see that sometimes… But I shouldn't have said any of that. I apologize."

"I nearly hurt you and you're apologizing." he mumbled against her shoulder. "That's not right. You should be afraid of me. You should see…"

"See what?" He could hear the frown in her voice.

"I'm a _monster_." he whispered, closing his eyes and holding on to her like she was the only thing keeping him alive. "I'm _broken_."

"Haymitch." She forced him to lift his head to look at her. Her face was stern and a bit sad. "I could never be afraid of you. I trust you. I trust you not to hurt me, I trust you to be honest with me and I would trust you with my life if I had to. You are broken, yes, but you're _not_ a monster. You're my friend." Friend. _Friends with a Capitol gal, bah_, Chaff had said countless times, but _she_ _was_. "You've got nothing to feel guilty about. You're a good man who had been through things no one should have to face. If one of us is guilty, I am, you're right about that."

He frowned. "Because of the reapings?" He shook his head sadly. "You or another escort… It would happen anyway, sweetheart."

She lowered her eyes and leaned against him more freely. "It doesn't help me sleep at night."

"Better to regret than not to care." he said. "Those kids… It's better for them to die quickly. I know it's harder for you when they're that young but…"

"It's hard for me no matter their age." She bit her lower lip anxiously. "I can't talk to anyone about this but you."

He gently took hold of her chin and forced her to look at him. "You _don't_ talk to anyone about this but me. It's dangerous, Effie."

"I know." She sighed. "I know. It's just that… Sometimes, I feel like you're the only thing I have and it's hard to see you being so… detached." The only thing she had? How sad for her. She deserved more, so much more. "I feel so _alone_ when you get like that."

Some tears escaped her eyes and rolled down her cheeks, he kissed them away without even thinking about it. "I'm sorry." He wished he could promise he would change. He wished he _could_ change. But he had never really lied to her and he wasn't about to start now. "I'm sorry." His mouth brushed against hers in an apology or a request, he wasn't totally sure. "I'm…" he whispered one last time, but she kissed the _sorry_ away. She tasted like the mint cake they had for desert, she kissed him with a deliberate slowness, deepening the kiss until he couldn't take it anymore. He pinned her against the wall again, lifting her up so her legs could lock around his waist. Her dress rode up and his fingers explored the smooth skin of her thighs. His mouth trailed against her jaw, her hands were efficiently undoing the buttons of his shirt… She nearly tore the shirt in two in her impatience to get rid of it but he didn't even notice because she was kissing him again and it was _glorious_.

"Bed." she moaned when he was nibbling at her neck. "_Now_."

"Bossy." he commented, trying and failing to make sense of the intricate piece of clothing she was wearing. How did you get rid of those dresses?

She took his head in her hands and forced it off her chest. "I'm not having sex in a room where anybody could come in at any minute. Bed, now."

He kissed her but stepped back long enough for her to get down from where he was pinning her. He didn't particularly entertain the thought of being caught by an Avox while they were doing… that. Bed, it was. If he could stop kissing her long enough to get there. "If it always ends up with sex, we will never stop fighting." she said, breathlessly and probably desperately too.

Truer words had never been spoken, though.


	16. Best Behavior

Could you perhaps do this prompt? Effie walks in on Haymitch shirtless or something and can't stop staring at his abs;) victory tour or around that time?:) thank you!x

_**Best behavior**_

Effie was an absolute bundle of nerves. The train was about to arrive in District Three and everything needed to be perfect – everything _always_ needed to be perfect obviously, but it should be more than perfect when that awful Gladys Levesque, District Three escort and bane of Effie Trinket's very existence, would be in attendance. She had spent all morning fretting about everything and reviewing their schedule again and again. For now, everything was going great. Cinna and Portia were helping Katniss and Peeta get ready and doing a splendid job as usual. Katniss' dress was beautiful, Peeta's suit was classic but trendy… They both had the notes she had written down for their speeches… No… The only possible disruptive element was in his room, hopefully wearing the suit she had carefully chosen and laid out for him on his bed.

She had begged and begged without shame for him to stay sober on that day and after long hours of pleading he had relented but had promised to _not _be happy about it. She would take anything he could send her way over listening to Gladys' cutting remarks. Everything had to be _perfect_. Her own dress was exquisite, it was a present from Portia, custom-designed for her, there were intricate patterns of purple lace and small white feathers intertwined all over the dress, it was beautiful.

Haymitch's door was slightly open so she knocked and went in without waiting for an invitation.

"This is a catastrophe!" she exclaimed "The train is ten minutes late and…"

She fell silent abruptly, gaping a little. She thought he would have had enough time to get dressed given that since she had last seen him she had changed clothes, checked on Katniss and Peeta multiple times and even went to the locomotive to speak to the engine driver but… she should have remembered that Haymitch was slow with or without alcohol. She should have been grateful he had pants on, even. Although… she was kind of grateful he was bare-chested, to be honest.

She had helped him change enough times along the years when he was too drunk to care about being covered in wine or vomit but she didn't remember him being so… Where was the slight pouch of fat on his belly? When and where and how did he get those abs drinking his days away?

"Oh, come on !" He threw on the bed the shirt he was about to put on, clearly fed up with her antics. "Would you calm down already!" He walked to her and snatched her clipboard. "Are you kidding me, sweetheart? We're fifteen minutes ahead of schedule."

"Only five now." she corrected him, but her eyes were riveted to his stomach. His surprisingly firm, flat and muscled stomach.

He rolled his eyes but looked the schedule over and even read the notes she had scribbled on the margin. "You really hate this woman, don't you?" He sounded amused. She couldn't remember exactly what she had written but she knew there were slightly unkind comments on how Gladys might react to certain things like, for instance, Effie casually telling her at dinner that her dress had been designed by Portia with her in mind personally. "Can't blame you, though. Isn't she the one always dying her skin green or blue?"

"Yes. It depends on what color is in fashion." Her hand seemed to be possessed because it rose in the air and brushed against his abs. He pulled his stomach in instinctively, audibly breathing in. Effie felt a deep blush spreading on her cheeks. What had she been thinking? "You've been working out." she said to cover up any awkwardness.

When he spoke, Haymitch's voice was rough and she kept her eyes on his chest because it seemed safer, somehow, than facing him properly. "The boy is always guilt-tripping me about helping with bags of flour or paint or something else. And when it's not him, it's the girl. I think they're afraid I'm going to drop dead if I don't do some exercise now and then."

She had trouble swallowing for some reason. It wasn't just the abs anymore, it was also the hairs trailing down below the waistline of his pants. She couldn't help but wonder… "Well, it does you good. You're very… fit."

"Yeah?" There was a smirk on his face, she didn't need to look to be sure of that. "I would ask if you like what you see but it's a bit obvious you do."

She nearly spluttered. "Don't be ridiculous!"

"Ridiculous ?" He stepped closer, she stepped back but there was a wall behind her and she was afraid of creasing her dress, so, in the end, she stood her ground. "You're practically drooling, princess."

"I am _not_ drooling." But she might be wondering if there was any way at all she could manage to get him bare-chested at some point in front of Gladys because really… No, upon reflection, she didn't want Gladys leering at him like that. Haymitch was _her_ victor and no one else's. "Put on your shirt, now, please."

He laughed but did as she asked after handing her clipboard back. "Embarrassed, are we?"

"Afraid of being late, rather." She lifted an eyebrow. "Why would I be embarrassed? There's nothing there I haven't seen before."

He buttoned up his shirt, frowning at her in confusion. It really _was_ a shame to hide that body under a shirt. "What?"

"How many times did you pass out in some clothes and woke up with other clothes on?" She flipped through her clipboard distractedly. "What did you think happen? Magic?"

"Are you telling me you've been undressing and dressing me all those years without my knowledge?" He didn't seem to be too keen on the prospect.

"Dressing, undressing…" She waved her hand about in disinterest. "I had to drag you into the shower once." He had been fully clothed at that time, but he didn't need to know that. Let him think she had seen him fully naked a thousand times – which had _never _happened, she drew the line at underwear – that would be her revenge for that horrid night when she had been half-afraid he had died on her. It had taken her one hour and two cold showers to wake him up that time. "Not a pleasant experience. Anyway… Like I said. Nothing I've never seen before. Nothing to brag about anyway."

That was a blatant lie and he saw right through it. "Well… Next time you want to undress me, make sure I'm sober, sweetheart." He smirked. "I may just want to return the favor…"

"Haymitch, really!" she huffed. "Manners."

"You're the one ogling me. Who has no manners, now?" he retorted.

"I am certainly not ogling." She was probably too defensive.

"I don't mind." He tucked the shirt into his pants and patted his chest two times to make sure he was presentable. "There. Will that stupid escort be green with jealousy? Wait, she's always green that's…"

"You need a tie." she cut in, pretending not to hear his grunts of irritation. He could go on and on if she let him. She rummaged in a drawer – the mess he always made! – and managed to find what she was looking for. He sighed but let her put the tie around his neck and knot it artfully. Then she carefully smoothed his shirt, letting her hands linger a little too long.

"You're feeling me up, sweetheart." His eyes were shining with amusement and something else she didn't want to dwell upon.

She sighed with fake annoyance and stepped back. "You're _impossible_. I am going to see if the children are ready."

"Do you want me to rip my shirt off and parade around for you archenemy?" he called out after her. "That would make her greener."

She turned around and fixed him with a death glare. "On your best behavior. You promised me." she reminded him. "That means no embarrassing actions or comments." She was sure the first thing he was going to do was insult Gladys. "Don't talk to their escort if you can help it." Because the first thing Gladys was going to do was insult Haymitch and it would be better for him to be far away when she did it. Effie had trouble enough keeping calm when she did that as it was.

"I will just stand there and look pretty, then." he rolled his eyes.

"Exactly." she joked, patting his chest comfortingly.

"You just can't keep your hands off me, can you?" He was enjoying her embarrassment a little too much for her taste.

"Seriously, though." She cleared her throat. "Don't drink too much. Please."

"Seriously, though." He mocked her, covering the hand she had left on his chest with his. "How many times do I have to say that I won't? Consider this an early birthday present."

"You never give me birthday presents." She pointed out. "You never even call me for my birthday." Which he should really. It was only proper after all.

"I don't know when your birthday is." He shrugged, his thumb was stroking the back of her hand. It was distracting.

"My point, precisely." She sighed. "Gladys has been putting me down for years. I just want…"

"We will give her a good show. Don't worry." he promised. "Now… What do_ I_ get out of this?"

"I thought it was a present?" That was just like him, he never did anything for free. "What do you want?"

"I want…" he trailed off, considering the various compensations he could get out of this. He was going to tell her she wasn't allowed to nag him about his drinking for at least a year, she was sure of it. "A kiss."

"What?" She had not been expecting that. At all. "What do you mean a kiss?"

With her high heels, they were roughly the same height and they always stood so close to each other… Haymitch only had to lean in a little to press his lips against hers. It was chaste enough. Again, not what she would have expected.

"Was that so terrible?" he asked.

She didn't know how to answer that. "Do you really think _now_ is the time to be joking around?"

"Who's joking around?" Haymitch leaned in again but she stopped him with a hand on his chest.

"This is _not_ the time." she snapped. "We have to focus right now."

"The train is running, it can't go any faster, we won't be late." He droned dispassionately. "The world won't stop if you kiss me. Well, it might feel like it does, I'm quite good at that I've been told, but…"

"I am not talking about Three. I don't care about Three." she hissed angrily. She cared about Three to a certain extent but she cared about their reception in the districts a lot more. She didn't need him to tell her what was happening out there, she had understood on her own. The love story between Peeta and Katniss wasn't convincing anybody who needed to be convinced and they were all in _so much trouble_. "This is neither the place nor the time for that. It waited years, it can wait longer."

She felt bold talking about them like that. They had never addressed the tension between them, the sparks… She had been half convinced she had imagined everything.

"I'm thinking we're in a 'now or never' kind of scenario, here, sweetheart, to be honest." He didn't want to meet her eyes and she felt sad all of a sudden. The pleasure of showing off to Gladys, the glee of wearing her new dress… It all fell away. "I don't see a good ending to that story."

"We need to sell it harder, then." The tie was crooked. She couldn't let him go out with a crooked tie when she had knotted it herself. And it was something to do with her hands: undo and knot again. "We need to focus."

"Hard to focus when you're looking at me like you're starving and I'm a pound of meat." he joked but it wasn't a joke really. And it wasn't a lie either.

"You managed all those years." She pointed out. The knot wasn't coming out right and her hands were shaking a little. She should give up and ask Cinna to do it but she kept on doing it again and again. Wasn't that a sign of madness? Doing the same thing over and over again and hope for a different outcome? Wasn't that what they had been doing all those years? And now that they had their different outcome, it wasn't working out so well either.

"I never felt the urgency in all those years." He replied with a honesty she wasn't expecting. "Now… I fell like something big is going to happen and break us apart. Would you _stop_ strangling me?"

He clasped her hands and she froze. They were too close, always too close, she could see every slightly different shade of grey in his eyes. Same dance they had always danced : so close but not enough, wanting and needing but not brave enough to cross this huge gap of the three inches keeping them apart.

"Nothing will ever break us apart." She heard herself say, quite convincingly for something she didn't quite believe. "We are a team."

A flicker of annoyance flashed in his eyes. "I'm not talking about the kids."

"Neither am I." She was talking about them.

"Just a team?" There was the sarcastic tone again, the bitterness…

It was madness to do the same thing again and again and hope for a different outcome.

He didn't move when she took a step closer, effectively obliterating that thing some called personal space. He looked so dejected and worried and a little desperate too… She couldn't help herself. "The best team." She kissed him softly on the lips, like he had done. "Friends." One of her hands escaped his and wandered on his chest because, really, at that point… why go without? She kissed him again, a little less chastely, but still he didn't move.

"What else?" he asked, his voice rough and deep. His hands moved to her hips and then to the small of her back.

"Be careful with the dress, please. The feathers are delicate." she scolded him, making sure he wasn't crushing Portia's hard work.

"You're sending mixed signals, here, you know?" he sighed, removing his hands from her waist. She pulled them back but _carefully_.

"For now, we're going to Three where you will be on your best behavior. Then…" She kissed him again but, this time, he leaned into the kiss and it grew quite… _hungry_. She forgot what she was saying or to worry about her dress, she wasn't even sure she could have remembered her name if someone had asked her at that moment. She was drowning in the kiss and she never wanted to come to the surface again, breathing seemed superfluous.

"Effie, Haymitch, are you in there?" There was a knock but the door was still slightly ajar, she felt Haymitch step back abruptly and she actually whimpered with frustration – a fact she wasn't ever, _ever_ going to mention – but she blushed crimson when she saw Portia on the threshold, a polite but amused smile on her face. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt. The train stopped five minutes ago, I guess you didn't notice."

She blinked a few times and then quickly did the math. "Five minutes? Oh, this is all your fault!" she glared at Haymitch who rose his hands to show his innocence. _Best behavior_, yeah… As if he was even capable of _that_.


	17. A Bit of a Crush

Prompt: Haymitch finds out about Effie's crush on him when she was younger, then, Cinna, Katniss, Portia or someone teases her about it and Haymitch just winks at her- thank you!

_**A Bit of a Crush**_

"They have all that merchandise for children and teenagers…" Effie explained, carefully cutting her meat in even pieces. "Toys, posters, collector cards…"

How did they even get to that topic of conversation? A comment from Cinna during the appetizer and the whole dinner had been about the public image of victors in the Capitol.

"I had all the figurines when I was younger." Portia said. "I collected them."

Katniss and Peeta exchanged a look, obviously not so pleased at the prospect of toys in their effigy going around in children's hands.

"Me too!" Effie rejoiced, remembering all the fun she had with her toys as a girl. "I used to play the Hunger Games with all the former victors, all day long." Which probably wasn't the right thing to say with three victors sitting at the dinner table.

She felt really uncomfortable but Portia kindly smiled at her and took a sip of her wine. "I did too." she confessed. "All children do, I think. I remember my room was full of posters… I could have killed to meet some of those victors, then."

Once again, a look passed between the children. Cinna, despite having launched the topic, wasn't bringing much to the conversation. And Haymitch, of course, was silently nursing a drink and not touching his plate much. He wasn't drunk yet, so Effie didn't comment on it.

"I know." She told Portia, pouring herself another glass of wine. She might be drinking a little more freely than usual to compensate for the weird mood in the room, but… "My mother was ready to tear her hair out at some points. She wanted my room to be proper and lady like but I kept covering the wall with posters of my favorite victors."

"My mother was the same." Portia sighed. "I was mad for Seeder. I wanted to be like her so much… Trading cards, posters, dolls… I had it all."

"I was the same with…" She bit her tongue at the very last possible moment but her eyes betrayed her. They glided down the head of the table were Haymitch was sitting and she didn't look away early enough.

Everybody was startled by her sudden silence and, of course, everybody picked up on it. Even Katniss stopped eating morosely to stare at her.

"Were you a fan of mine, sweetheart?" Haymitch smirked.

"If I was I long grew out of it." she huffed. "That is why you should never meet your childhood heroes."

"Heroes?" Katniss laughed. It sounded cruel to Effie's ears. "That's a strong word, don't you think?"

"Haymitch did make an impression at the time." Portia cut in with a smile for Effie. "Half the Capitol was in love with him."

"True." Cinna pointed out, looking at Portia with raised eyebrows. "Were _you_ in love with him? Should I be worried?"

Portia rolled her eyes and sipped her wine. "He was a bit old for me. I was… eight, I think. What about you, Effie?"

She cleared her throat awkwardly. "I was ten."

"I don't think that was the question…" Katniss said, even if it had been quite obvious Effie had wanted to avoid answering. "Did you have a crush on Haymitch?" Her voice was playful but Effie felt a tad overwhelmed.

Haymitch was no help either. The correct thing to do for him would have been to call Katniss into order and to switch topic but _of course_ he was enjoying it too much to do anything but watch her closely, twirling the wine in his glass, with a smug smile on his lips.

"Everybody had a crush on Haymitch, back then." she replied.

"Really?" Peeta was frowning with disbelief.

"Haymitch wasn't always… the Haymitch you know." Cinna had tried to be delicate and spare Haymitch's feelings but Haymitch's face turned a bit gloomier and Effie didn't like that. _Unlike_ _him_, she had some manners.

"He was young, handsome, brave and clever." she sighed, all the while knowing she would never hear the end of it. "What's not to love in that?"

"You _did_ have a crush." Katniss was triumphant but Effie didn't know what was there to prove. Of course, she had had a crush on Haymitch. Like Portia had said, half the Capitol had been in love with him.

"I…" She took another sip of her glass but the wine didn't inspire a clever retort. "Well…"

"Do you still have a crush on him, Effie?" Katniss teased. It wasn't mean but it certainly wasn't kind either and how did you even answer something like that ?

She could feel her cheeks reddening under all her make-up and instinctively looked at Haymitch to silently beg for a way out. He _had_ to say something to change the subject, it was only proper. Did he really take so much pleasure in seeing her embarrassed?

But all Haymitch did when their eyes finally met was wink. He winked with that smug smile of his like he knew perfectly well that she _did_ have a bit of a crush still. Of all the nerve! For him to assume that… She blushed even more and turned her head.

"Is everything ready for tomorrow?" Cinna asked suddenly, turning to Portia. "Did you lay out the blue suit for Peeta? I want them to match."

Portia retorted that they had agreed on grey and that it was what she had prepared. From there, it only grew into a debate over which color was better for their visit in District Seven. Effie piped in now and then, adding her two cents to the conversation between the stylists, Katniss and Peeta had gone back to staring at their plate which was for the best, really, but she was very aware of Haymitch's eyes on her. They followed her when she finally made her escape to her room after dinner. She pretended really hard not to be affected.


	18. A Friend's Prerogative

original prompt : hi... i know that probably you have tons of prompts but when you have time could you write one where some man from district 12 makes fun of effie, and haymitch gets mad because he's the only one who can? (before mockingjay) :3

_**A friend's prerogative **_

Effie caught sight of herself in a broken mirror in Haymitch's house and concluded she shouldn't have gone for that orange wig, it was a bit over the top really with the big green bows and the huge curls pinned high on her head. She didn't even like it, nor did she like the bubble skirt that made her look distinctly chubby. _You will look like a sunset,_ the new District Twelve stylist had said. Useless to say she would go back to her personal wardrobe as soon as she could. She was actually afraid of how he would dress the children, his views on fashion were… eccentric to say the least.

She found Haymitch passed out on his kitchen table, a knife in a hand and a bottle in the other. It had fazed her the first few years to have to fetch him before every Reaping but, now, she just made sure it was included in her schedule. For someone who always insisted on keeping a knife under his pillow, he was a heavy sleeper. She wandered in his kitchen, making sure to click her heels loudly against the kitchen tiles, but he didn't move even when she banged cupboard doors in search of a glass nor when she filled said glass with cold water from the tap.

Now, the next part had to be planned just right or it could be dangerous for her. She stood right behind him and poured the glass on his head, making sure to jump out of harm's way before he began slicing the air with his knife. He spluttered a little, brushing his damp – too long, she would have to schedule a haircut for him – hair out of his face. When his eyes fell on her, he slumped back down on the table. "You look ridiculous."

"You look drenched." She crossed her arms and lifted an eyebrow.

"And I will make you pay for that." he mumbled, rubbing his face. "Mean it, though. You look even more ridiculous than usual."

"Behold our new stylist's work." she sighed. "Very generous. There are clothes for you too in the train."

"Not a chance in hell." he growled. "How long do I have?"

"Somehow, I knew you would say that. I made sure to pack some other suits for you." She consulted her watch. "You have fifteen minutes. Not one more."

"Plenty of time, then." He inspected his bottle carefully, probably trying to see if there was some liquor left in it.

She snatched it before he could bring it to his mouth. "You're difficult enough when you're sporting a hangover. You are not drinking until after the Reaping." He rolled his eyes and tried to get the bottle back but she put it behind her back. Good point in favor of the huge dress, it made him keep his distance. "Go and get changed. A shower would be nice too but I'm not holding my breath on that."

"I'm already tired of you." He said but he must have known she wouldn't relent because he did get up and stumbled to the stairs. She heard him walk upstairs and, if the noises were to be believed, bang his head or something or other. She kept a an eye on her watch as she wandered downstairs, frowning at the state the house was in. Garbage, empty bottles, shattered glass… She opened a window in the living-room because it smelt like rot.

"Don't like my palace, princess?" She turned around, studying his choice of clothes attentively. It wasn't perfect at any rate, but it would do.

"Are you ready?" she asked, neglecting to answer a question that was mostly rhetorical anyway. "Because if you're not I'm leaving you here and you can bargain with Peacekeepers." She usually did.

"Peacekeepers, at least, wouldn't be trying to blind me with their clothes." he said, gesturing for her to go first. "Seriously, what's with the orange and the green? That's awful, even _I _can tell you that."

She would love to contradict him but it _was_ awful. The dress, additionally to being huge, was green dotted with orange. She should have gone for one of her own wig, the white or the yellow, it would have, at least, made her look less like a carrot. Even her complexion looked bad in those clothes. "I will try to find another stylist for next year." Stylists weren't exactly fighting each other to be appointed to District Twelve, though. She had trouble finding one every year.

She was relieved to leave his house and its horrible stench of liquor behind. There was no small talk on the way to the square, there never was. Haymitch was getting gloomier and gloomier with each step and she was smiling brighter and brighter even if it hurt her lips to do so. _Look happy_, she kept telling herself, _silly and frivolous, that's who you are. _

There was a small commotion when they arrived at the square, too much people trying to go in at once. Peacekeepers caught sight of them and asked them to wait on the side for a few minutes. Effie kept glancing at her watch but they were still on schedule. There was a group of men near them and they were making fun of her dress. Haymitch snorted at her, with a look that meant _told you so_ if there ever was one, but Effie pretended not to hear anything, just like the Peacekeepers who were also very busy laughing at her. The comments, though, became meaner and meaner and that made her shuffle her feet in embarrassment. She caught the words _peacock_, _clown _and last but not least : _Capitol bitch_.

Haymitch frowned at that last one but Effie put a hand on his arm before he could say something stupid. He was sporting the same look on his face he always had when Chaff went too far with her with his silly little provoking gibes or when anyone insulted her really. He got rid of her hand, though, and signaled to the Peacekeepers he was done with waiting. He pushed through the crowd, leaving her with no other choice but to follow him. He was angry, she could tell by the sudden tension in his shoulders, but was it because of what he heard or because of the Reaping? She should have let him have at least a glass – that being said, she was half-convinced he had several bottles stocked upstairs and had taken a few drinks while getting ready, but still.

"What's the matter?" she asked, accepting the hand he was holding out to help her on the stage. They sat on the chairs in the back, waiting for the mayor to appear. They had a few minutes left before the actual Reaping started.

"Nothing." he mumbled, looking everywhere but at the crowd of children staring at them with wide eyes.

She did the same. She always did. She didn't want to see them until she actually had to. "Come on, it will be over before you know it." It was hollow words and they both knew it. Reapings were just the beginning. Next, there would be the train ride and the Capitol and even more opportunities to get to know the children even if they didn't want to and after that…

"It's not that." Haymitch sighed. "Well, that too, but…" He dug a flask out of his pocket and took a long swallow. She didn't say anything. Nothing she could say would do the smallest difference anyway. "I wish people would stop talking about you like that."

"Two of their children are about to die because I will pick a piece of paper with their name on it." _Smile_, she reminded herself. "They can laugh at me and insult me as much as they want to." She had long lost her passion for the Games.

"I wish they could know the real you." He took another mouthful and she wondered how drunk he was and how embarrassing he would be if she let him get drunker.

"They know the real me. Effie Trinket, District Twelve escort. There's nothing else to know." She tapped her heel against the wooden floor, waiting for the crew's signal they were going live.

"I don't like Effie Trinket. I like my friend Effie." He sighed, tucking the flask in his front pocket. "They would like her."

It always made her feel weird when he called her his friend. Lots of people called her their friend in the Capitol but Haymitch had few of those and they were precious to him. Cherished, even. It was humbling and a privilege for her each time he called her that.

"Let them hate me." She replied, low enough that no one could hear her. There were too many Peacekeepers around for her peace of mind. "Besides, I _do_ look like a clown in this dress."

"You always look like a clown." he retorted with a mocking smile.

She had to fight not to roll her eyes – not very good manners, that. "See, you get upset when _they_ make fun of me but _you_ do it all the time."

He shrugged. "That's a friend's prerogative, sweetheart."

She didn't answer but that time, her smile wasn't fake. A friend's prerogative, she was alright with that.


	19. How's that for Flirting?

Prompt: Haymitch flirts with Effie, who is quite oblivious until Haymitch decides to take action (post-rebellion).

_**How's that for flirting?**_

"You're going to fall into that mirror, sweetheart."

Haymitch leaned against the open door and watched Effie pat her real hair desperately in front of the silver lined mirror the kids had gifted her with on her birthday. He hadn't seen her all morning and he had been worried when he had finally hauled himself up the stairs to the guestroom – turned into Effie's room, about a year ago – that he would find her catatonic or having one of her panic attacks. The stress of the upcoming wedding had taken its toll on her and he had sometimes wondered, in the past weeks, who was getting married: Katniss or Effie? Weddings in Twelve were simple enough affairs but simple wasn't Effie's way and she had planned a dinner, a party and everything you could imagine really from start to finish. All Katniss had to do – and Haymitch thought the girl was secretly happy for the help because she couldn't care less about those things – was chose a dress. Bottom line was Effie was tired and since the rebellion a tired Effie often lead to a frantic panicked Effie with nightmares, flashbacks and a lot of unpleasant things he could go without on Katniss' and Peeta's wedding day.

"I'm just trying to look nice." Effie said, twisting her hair into a bun and keeping it in place with a few pins.

"You never look nice." He crossed his arms. "You always look gorgeous."

"I'm never going to be ready in time." she lamented, taking back the pins and letting her glorious curls fall loose on her shoulders. "I've spent so much time getting everything just right, I didn't even think about what I was going to wear."

That probably explained why it looked as if a mini-tornado had ransacked the room. He sighed and went to sit on the bed, trying to find a small space between dresses and blouses.

"What's wrong with what you're wearing?" It was a simple summer blue dress but it looked okay to him. It suited her features perfectly.

"It's an everyday dress, really, Haymitch." She clucked her tongue in disapproval and tried a ponytail with her hair, another attempt at pinning them and then she was letting them fall again. She was getting frustrated.

"Well, it's still day, so I don't see the problem." he shrugged. "That color looks good on you, it brings out your eyes. I like that."

He loved her eyes really but he wasn't about to tell her that openly. She didn't even seem to hear him. He was paying her compliment on compliment and she wasn't even listening… He wondered how rude she would judge that to be when she finally realized what was going on.

"It's not good enough." she snapped.

Patience, patience, he needed patience. "Okay, what are the other choices then?"

_That_ caught her attention. She turned and rummaged in the clothes thrown on the bed, taking out three dresses and holding them out for his inspection. A dark red one that was too long and too sophisticated for anything in Twelve, a short lime-green in which he was sure she wouldn't be able to sit and a light pink bustier one.

"The pink one." he said immediately.

"Are you sure?" she winced. "Pink is close to white, I don't want Katniss to think I'm trying to outshine her."

"You will outshine her whatever you wear, princess, that's just the way it is." He meant it too. Katniss might be young and pretty but Effie was perfect. She was beautiful. Even more so since she had left her wigs and outrageous make-up behind after coming to Twelve.

"Don't be ridiculous." she huffed, but she discarded the other dresses on the bed again and studied the pink one at arm length.

"I am not ridiculous I'm trying to be honest." He needed a drink but he had already gotten through his share for the day. She was worse than a jailor with the amount of liquor he was allowed per day. "No woman in Twelve can hold a candle to you."

She was too focused on inspecting her dress to listen it seemed. "Turn around." she requested, already undoing the buttons of her blue dress.

"Why?" he smirked. "I would like to enjoy the show…"

He got a discarded dress thrown at his head for his trouble. "Turn _around_."

He rolled his eyes but fall on his back amidst her numerous dresses and put his arm on his face. "Here" he snorted. "Happy?"

"No peeking." she warned him.

He didn't gratify that with an answer because there wasn't a good way to peek without being caught anyway, so he listened to the ruffling of fabrics.

"This won't work." she said and it was so desperate he sat again. She was wearing the pink dress and, just as he predicted, she looked gorgeous. The lower part was fluttering around her leg with each of her move and the upper part… He didn't think he could tear his eyes away from her cleavage even if he had wanted to. She didn't even notice, she was stretching her neck to look at her back in the mirror. "You can see the scars."

"Nobody is going to look at your scars." he promised absent-mindedly, too busy staring at her chest.

"But they're ugly." Her voice was shattering and he looked at her face abruptly, noticing the frustrated tears in her eyes. "My hair isn't even long enough to cover them…" Her hair had been cut short and unevenly when she was in prison, it had been a constant reminder. It was just beginning to reach her shoulders now but she was insecure about it, he knew. She was insecure about a lot of things she shouldn't have been insecure about.

He got up quickly and turned her gently so she would face the mirror and not see the scars anymore, his hands moving up and down her arms soothingly. "You're beautiful. How many times do I have to tell you that?"

She didn't look convinced but she sighed softly. "Maybe with a cardigan. I think I have a cream one somewhere…"

Somewhere in the numerous heap of clothes scattered around the room… Good luck finding it. His hands stopped on her shoulders and his thumb retraced the scar there. He couldn't lie and say they weren't ugly because they were, scars always were and hers were particularly noticeable. Doctors in Thirteen hadn't been concerned with aesthetics, her scars were swollen and still white against her skin. She shuddered under his touch but not in a good way. Not like he would have loved for her to shiver under his hands.

"Don't, please." she begged. "Don't look at them. I don't want you to see them. They're repulsive."

He frowned slightly. "You could never repulse me. Nothing about you could _ever_ repulse me." She leaned back a little against his chest but she didn't look pacified. "Don't think about that today." He should have known that the wedding would bring trouble. She was very self-conscious about her looks since she had gotten out of prison. Her beauty, he had come to learn, had always been her greatest asset and she felt like they had taken that away from her. "You're beautiful." He kissed her shoulder, just above the scar.

She gave him a small smile in the mirror and it reached her eyes this time. "I don't know why you put up with me but, most days, I don't know why I put up with you so I suppose that's alright."

He rolled his eyes but wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. If she was surprised by his sudden affection she didn't let on, she just placed her hands on his arms and fully leaned against him. "So, who are you taking to the wedding? Do you have a date?" she asked. "Or are you going alone?"

He frowned. What was she even talking about? "Aren't we going together?" Did _she_ have a date? Most District Twelve citizens stayed clear of her, her days as an escort still very present on their mind, but some didn't mind that at all. She had made friends since she had come to live there. Had she met someone? A someone who was more than a friend?

"I don't know, you never properly asked me." she pointed out, with a smile. She was making fun of him. The little…

"I thought it was obvious." he replied with a shrug. "We live together, don't we?"

She lowered her eyes. He felt her tense in his arms. "We live together but we don't… We aren't… You shouldn't feel obliged to take me."

It took him a few seconds to decipher was she was trying to say. "Are you putting me off or being extraordinary thick?" Because either way, she needed to be clearer.

She blushed a little. "How am I supposed to know if you want to be friends or more? People usually hint at that kind of things, you know?"

His eyebrows shot up and he actually straightened. Her hands gripped his arms instinctively, as if she was afraid he would let go of her. "Well, I though all the flirting would have been hint enough."

"Flirting? What flirting?" She sounded genuinely confused.

Haymitch let out a deep sigh. "Sweetheart, you've known me how long? Have you ever heard me telling one of my _friends _they're beautiful and gorgeous fifth times in ten minutes?"

She pursed her lips in obvious amusement. "Was _that_ your attempt at flirting? Because I've heard you more creative."

"I will give you creative." he growled, turning her around by the shoulders. He didn't give her time to react before he kissed her hungrily, one hand twisting her hair and the other clenching her waist. "There." he said, when breathing became an issue and he had to lean back a little. "How's that for flirting?"

She licked her lips with a smug smile. "That's not flirting, that's kissing." Without her usual heels, she had to go on tip-toe for their face to be on the same level, he let her initiate the kiss this time. She fisted her hands in his waistcoat – he wondered distantly if Katniss and Peeta would mind them going to their wedding with creased clothes and then forgot the thought because there was more important things happening right now – and pressed her lips to his, softly at first and then with more and more pressure until he had no choice but to open his mouth with a moan. She stepped back then and winked at him. "Fortunately, you are better at kissing than at flirting." She smoothed her dress and went in search of shoes to match.

He watched her put on heels, dumbfounded. "_You_, princess, are a _tease_." he accused, half-joking. You didn't kiss men like that and then left then hanging it was simply… wicked.

"We have a wedding to attend." she reminded him.

"Let's skip it." he suggested, even though he knew they would never do that to the kids. "Nobody will notice."

"You're supposed to give Katniss away, I think she will very much notice." She strapped the second shoe on.

Yeah, and the girl would probably hunt him down with her bow, wedding day or not, but Effie sounded more like herself and it was too good an opportunity to pass. "See, I think I liked that dress better when it was on the hanger, you should take it off."

"That sounds more like your usual pick-up lines." She opened a drawer and took out several pieces of clothing before finding what she was looking for and putting on the cream cardigan, effectively hiding the scars on her back. "I'm still waiting for you to ask me out."

"We're not fifteen, I'm not asking you out." He sat on the stool in front of her dresser, watching her going back to her mirror and trying several things with her hair again.

"You are very much asking me out if you want to take that dress off me at some point in the evening." she retorted. "That's only proper."

"That's stupid." he snorted, even if the prospect of her letting him take that dress off was doing things to him he was sure were very improper.

"Is that so hard to ask me on a date?" She separated her hair in two, twisted it in a complicated knot and frowned still not happy with it.

"Let it loose." he requested.

"Loose isn't classy enough for a wedding." she sighed.

"Nobody is going to care, Effie." He said as kindly as he could. "And I like it like that."

She stared at her reflection a few seconds and then tousled the curls a little. "Let's make a deal. Ask me out and I will keep it that way."

He rolled his eyes but knew it was no use to argue. It was a victory in itself. Given the state she had been in when he had walked in her room, it was a miracle she had not gone into a full panic attack at some point.

"Are you going with me to this wedding?" It was flat and boring and she crossed her arms, watching him with a stern face that promised trouble. "Okay." he sighed. "Do you want to go with me to this wedding as a date and not as the friend I've been flirting with for years to no avail?"

"I would love to." She smiled. "See? That wasn't _so_ hard."

"I would tell you what's hard but I don't think you would deem it very proper." he deadpanned with a smirk. "That's innuendo by the way, not flirting."

She shook her head, clearly not impressed. "Keep your innuendos to yourself, please. We're going to a wedding not a bachelor party."

"Yeah, well, we're going to be late for that wedding if you don't get a move on." he said. "Didn't you say you needed to be at Katniss' two hour _before_ the ceremony for whatever reason?"

"To help her get ready." she explained for what seemed to be the hundredth time. "And you need to go find Peeta and make sure he's alright."

And by alright, she meant not having one of his episodes, in which case Haymitch wouldn't be able to do anything but pray for it to end quickly. Katniss was better at bringing him back than he was. Of course, there was also a fair chance that Katniss would have a breakdown again because her sister wasn't there on her big day. He didn't know if her mother was coming or not, he doubted it, he had gathered from Katniss the woman wouldn't put a foot back in Twelve if she could help it. He could understand that but he was also a bit sickened by the way she had sunk into her grief over Prim and left Katniss to fend for herself when she so obviously needed someone to rely on. Haymitch had done his best for the kid but…

"This is going to be a long day, isn't it?" He let out a tired sigh. He was exhausted only thinking of everything that could go wrong.

"Yes." She said coming closer to kiss him on the lips. "But we will get through it together"

Together… He could do that.


	20. What's the matter with Haymitch?

Here's a prompt; the rebels think that Effie and Haymitch are dating (and Johanna talks about their sexual tension).

_**What's the matter with Haymitch? **_

"What is the matter with Haymitch?" Beetee asked after Katniss had left District Thirteen's cafeteria.

Finnick didn't answer right away, too busy following Annie with his eyes to be sure she was alright. She was busy talking with Delly and Peeta at the other end of the room, she didn't seem to be in any kind of distress so he turned back to the people still sitting at the table, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the topic being discussed.

"What isn't the matter with Haymitch?" Gale snorted. Finnick wasn't sure he liked the boy very much, he was too eager to pick up a fight for his taste although he could understand his thirst for revenge on the Capitol. "He's in withdrawal. It would be better for him if they allowed him some alcohol and reduce the dose every day. That's what they do with morphling, isn't it?"

"Yes, that's very true." Beetee agreed. "But liquor isn't the only problem, I fear. Since that stylist's execution he had been… hectic. Where they that close?"

Finnick took a sip of water. He didn't like to think about the stylist and Peeta's prep team being executed. They had all thought the same thing back then. Prisoners would be next and among them, Annie. His eyes fell on her again. She was smiling at something Peeta said. She was safe. Not everyone was that lucky.

"He's afraid for Trinket." Johanna rolled her eyes. "It's obvious, isn't it? She may be next."

He wished she hadn't said that. They didn't need that kind of gossip running around. The Capitol, Finnick supposed, didn't know what to do with Effie. They had all kept her in the dark precisely for that reason but if Snow had the slightest inkling that she was that important to a former victor…

"Trinket? The escort?" Gale asked. "What has she got to do with anything?"

Beetee's eyes widened in comprehension. "Oh, are they together? I didn't realize…" The man winced. "Well, that's not true. I've wondered before, but…"

"You _just_ wondered?" Johanna smirked. "Really? The sexual tension between them is so thick you could cut it with a knife." She slumped back in her chair. "Have you ever share an elevator with those two? Because I have and let me tell you, it's not a comfortable place to be."

"Haymitch was dating the woman who sent children to their death every year?" There was disgust in Gale's voice and it made Finnick want to hit something.

"She's not like that." he said frostily. "I've seen escorts who didn't give a rat ass, Effie isn't like that. She cares."

"If she cared that much she wouldn't have done it." Gale retorted.

"I don't think she actually got a choice in that." Beetee pointed out. "Once in the Games, always in the Games."

Gale didn't look convinced and excused himself saying he had to go back to training, but the former victors all exchanged a look, knowing how true that statement was.

"Are they really together, then?" Johanna's question was specifically targeting Finnick, probably because she knew that if anyone sitting at that table knew anything about it, it would be him. "I mean, I know they're shagging, they must be. But are they like… in love or something?"

Finnick weighted the pros and the cons and he let out a sigh, knowing Johanna wouldn't let go. She wasn't about to use that information against Haymitch anyway nor was Beetee. "I think it was more about love than lust from the very beginning but I don't know anything for sure. Haymitch isn't talking to me right now. I don't think he's talking to anyone, really. He's always with Plutarch or Coin."

Johanna's face grew darker. "Well, that sucks."

Once again, Finnick's eyes wandered to Annie. He was so very grateful to have her back, so relieved… He had told Katniss he would rather see her dead than in the hands of the Capitol and he had meant it at the time… He couldn't help but wonder if Haymitch felt the same way. What were they doing to Effie? Was she considered a traitor or just a person of interest? They had left Annie alone because they knew he would never had told her anything about the rebellion but what about Effie? Cinna, Portia, Haymitch and Katniss… Not to mention her public friendship with him. She had been surrounded by rebels… Would Snow really believe she knew nothing of it? Did they just put her in prison or were they torturing her like they did to Johanna?

"You never saw her when you were there?" he asked her.

"I saw no one." Johanna replied, harshly, before closing her eyes. "Except Peeta."

"Do you think…" Beetee didn't finish his question and that was for the best really.

"If she had been at risk, they would have gotten her out when they took you." Finnick said. "Haymitch would move heaven and earth to save her. If she's not here, then there's probably no need to worry."

"Haymitch doesn't call the shots." Johanna shrugged. "And there's more than one detention center in the Capitol."

"She's just an escort." Beetee said, adjusting his glasses. "They won't concern themselves with an escort. Bigger fish to fry."

"She's _District Twelve's_ escort." Finnick said. "And as Johanna pointed out in that lovely fashion of hers : everyone in the sponsors lounge knew there was something going on. When they're together, they're just…" He fell silent because he didn't have the words to describe their relationship. It was too different from what he shared with Annie. He and Annie were meant to be, he had known that as soon as he had realized what he felt for her was more than what a mentor should feel for his tribute. It was hard sometimes and mostly complicated at others but it was also easy, obvious and true. It wasn't the same thing for Haymitch and Effie.

"They're always at each other's throat." Johanna looked wistful to Finnick but he didn't comment on it. He suspected she had had a crush on Haymitch in her first years as a mentor and he could understand that because he had sported a boy crush on Effie for years, probably because she was the only Capitol woman who didn't seem interested in getting into his pants. "You never know if they're going to kill each other or have wild monkey sex in the middle of the room."

Beetee winced at the image but Finnick only smiled because… it was fairly accurate. "They never flaunted it but anybody paying attention would have seen it."

"I will have to take your word on that." Beetee said. "I've only mentored a few times since Trinket took the job."

Bonus on coming from a Careers District there was always someone else to do the mentoring. There was a bunch of victors too in Four and they usually took turns, two of them each year, but Finnick always ended up mentoring anyway. The Capitol couldn't get enough of him.

"I hate her." Johanna said, out of the blue. "She's always so… happy and peppy. _Look at my shoes, they're the latest ! Stop drinking, Haymitch! How rude is that!_" She made a face. "Her piercing voice makes me want to strangle her, I swear. One hour with Trinket and I'm almost grateful for my escort."

He wondered what it told about them, the victors, that they couldn't seem to be able to talk about the Games in past tense.

"Would she help you shower if you were covered in vomit and too drunk to care? Would she stay beside you all night and soothe your nightmares? Would she cry because you're obviously so fucked up by what happened to you and she can't do a thing to help?" He tried to keep the edge out of his voice but he found it difficult. "Because mine certainly wouldn't."

"She's in love with him, that doesn't count. That has nothing to do with her job as an escort." Johanna crossed her arms. "And as an escort she was fucking annoying."

"She did it for me too, sometimes." Finnick confessed. There had been times when everything had seemed too much. He had been too young, too tired and the Capitol had seemed too dark a place but he could always count on Effie at those times. The penthouse had always been opened to him. "I don't care how annoying she can be because she's a good person and she doesn't deserve being thrown in prison. She had done nothing wrong. She doesn't know anything. She must feel _so _betrayed…" He felt guilty. He had never told Effie he considered her a friend, it went unspoken between them, but he wished he had. He wished…

"Not all escorts are bad." Beetee said carefully, as if it could be taken the wrong way. "I've seen some who really cared about the children. They never lasted long, though." Johanna's face didn't encourage him to go further on that train of thoughts. "I'm surprised Haymitch didn't have a plan to retrieve her, if what you're saying is true."

"He did." Finnick knew that much, at least. Plutarch had been more forthcoming that Haymitch on the subject. "It backfired. They managed to retrieve Katniss' prep team but they couldn't get to Effie. She was arrested as soon as the arena exploded."

"That's fucked up." Johanna shook her head. "And that's why I'm glad to be alone. I don't have to worry about anybody but me."

"Yes, well…" Finnick sighed. "It must be killing him not to be able to do anything for her." It sure as hell killed him when he had to wait for Annie to be rescued.

"That's fucked up." Johanna said again as a conclusion.


	21. Staying

Original prompt : Post mocking jay period, 5 years since Haymitch and the 2 victors permanently left the capitol and Effie lost contact with them. Effie gets a wedding invitation to district 12 via Heavensbee, she meets Katniss and her baby at the train station. When Effie asked about Peeta, the answer was the boy was busy helping the groom. Enlightened, Effie understands that she was invited to Haymitch wedding. Although hurt, she decides to attend the wedding only to present her congratulations and well wishes, and realized that the bride looked similar to her (Elizabeth Banks appearance)... and you can go on from here.

_**Staying**_

There was nothing to be anxious about, Effie mused, when she got out of the train on District Twelve platform, except there was everything to be anxious about. It had been five years since she had last heard from anyone from Twelve, it was no one fault really. The children had had to look after each other after the rebellion and she hadn't expected Haymitch to stay in contact with her… Too many bad memories on both sides. They might have been as friendly as an escort and a mentor could be, they might have been attracted to each other and even have fallen into bed more than once, but she had never entertained any illusions about them. She often missed him though. They had left each other on a bad note after the rebellion. They had always fought but.. Never like that. She had lost count of the number of times she had picked up the phone only to drop it in fear of rejection. She would be glad to see him, though. It was the perfect excuse.

"Are you alright?" Plutarch asked her, lowering her case off the train, his own bag flung on his shoulder.

"Yes." She forced a bright smile on her lips. "Still not telling me whose wedding we're attending?"

Plutarch had been very mysterious about all of this. All he had said was that he needed a date – as friends, of course, she could never think of Plutarch as anything but that – for a wedding in Twelve and that she really should come with him. If he thought she hadn't noticed him growing more and more uncomfortable as the train got closer to Twelve, he was wrong.

"Ah, yes… About that…" Plutarch cleared his throat. "I should warn you…"

"Effie?" The voice was disbelieving and perhaps slightly anxious but Effie placed it right away, even if it had been years.

She turned around and faced Katniss with a sincere smile, a smile that only grew when she noticed the baby babbling in his stroller. Her anxiety slipped away and she hugged the girl – woman, now, but forever a girl to her – with delight. She asked to be introduced to the pretty baby, noticing Katniss was looking at her with wide eyes, probably because she wasn't used to seeing her without wig and heavy make-up but those were a thing of the past in the Capitol, now.

"I didn't know you were coming." Katniss was smiling but still looked a tad… nervous. "Not that I'm not glad to see you! But… I thought I was picking up Plutarch, nobody told me… Does anyone know about this?"

Plutarch didn't seem particularly comfortable. "Not really."

Effie frowned. "Is there a problem?" They exchanged a look but neither of them ventured an answer. She felt very ill-at-ease, she was missing something important. "Where's Peeta?"

Katniss seemed to relax at that. "Oh, with the groom. He's been there since last night's stag party." She rolled her eyes. "You know how Haymitch is."

Groom. Haymitch. _Haymitch was the groom_. It explained everything from Plutarch's weird behavior to Katniss' mixed welcome.

"Yes. Yes, I actually do." It came frostier than she intended but Katniss didn't seem to mind. "Maybe, I should…" But she fell silent before she could suggest climbing back on the train. That would be cowardly. Not to mention awkward once Haymitch learned she came all the way to Twelve only to leave immediately. She would have thought, for all their differences, he would have called her to tell her the news himself. It was only proper, they had a history after all. Their relationship might not have been a love story but there _had been_ a story there nonetheless and… He had obviously moved on better than she had.

"I am sorry." Plutarch said, noticing her unease. "I was afraid you wouldn't come if I told you the truth."

"You didn't _tell_ _her_?" Katniss glared at Plutarch and Effie was strongly reminded of the girl on fire roaming the arena with her bow. "What were you _thinking_?" The baby started crying and she took her out of the stroller to cradle her gently against her chest. Motherhood wasn't something Effie would have associated with Katniss but it softened her somehow, when she spoke again her voice was lower but she kept on glaring daggers at him. "When I told you 'please, do something', I didn't quite mean _that_."

"Desperate times calls for desperate measures." Plutarch said, defensively.

"What are you both talking about?" Effie asked, completely lost.

Katniss seemed to debate with herself and then sighed softly. "Why don't we go to my house? You can rest before the ceremony and… we can talk." She glanced at Plutarch angrily. "You can find your own way to Haymitch's. Just for the record, if this ends badly I'm never forgiving you."

The way she said it, Effie got the impression it could only end badly. "I'm not about to disrupt the wedding." She felt it was necessary to say it. Katniss might be under the impression that she had come to… do something crazy but she would never do that. If Haymitch was happy… "If you think my presence isn't… appropriate, I'm sure I can find something to occupy myself with until the next train. Or I could even babysit for you and Peeta while you're at the wedding." She wouldn't mind getting to know the baby. In fact, she would rather take care of the baby than go to the wedding.

"Oh, no, Effie, I didn't mean it like that…" Katniss sounded sorry now, she put the baby back into the stroller. "I'm glad to see you and I'm sure the others will be too." They walked in silence for a while, Plutarch made several attempts at small talks but they all fell short. It wasn't until he had left and she let them in into her house that Katniss spoke again. "I'm sorry we didn't keep in touch. At first, it was difficult to think about _all_ _that_ and then… "

The house looked like a perfect match between Katniss and Peeta. There were photos on the walls, some paintings she knew to be Peeta's… It was neat but with a lived in feel to it. She liked it.

"Life goes on." Effie smiled. "Don't worry. I understand. I felt the same way. I know it can't compare to what you went through but after the months I spent in detention…" She let that train of thought die right there right then. "I understand."

Katniss looked at her, then, _really_ looked at her like most people did when they were about to commiserate or say how sorry they were for her, but she didn't. She only showed her to the living-room and asked her if she wanted something to drink. It was silly but Effie felt proud of her good manners. It felt like a huge deal when Katniss finally suggested she held the baby while she went to get them tea. She understood the girl didn't trust a lot of people with her child and she felt strangely moved by the gesture. The little girl, of course, was an absolute angel and she was already in love with her. She looked like Peeta but she had Katniss' hair.

"Do you think I should go to the wedding?" she asked honestly, after Katniss put a smoking mug in front of her on the coffee table. "I want to offer my best wishes, of course, but if you think Haymitch is going to be uncomfortable with me there…" She wished Katniss said he would because she desperately wanted an excuse to get out of there.

"Do you?" Katniss retorted with her familiar abruptness. It was good to hear her speak like that. It was a sign things hadn't changed that much. "Want to offer you best wishes, that is. Are you really okay with Haymitch getting married?" Katniss looked crossed, protective even.

Effie lowered her eyes on the babbling baby in her lap. "I don't think it's my place to have an opinion on that."

"Do you still love him? Have you even ever loved him at all?" That was Katniss in a shell : no diplomacy and no manners. Effie didn't know how aware the girl was of the true nature of her relationship with Haymitch, clearly she knew more than she had in the past but love had nothing to do with what Effie had shared with Haymitch. Love had never been a factor in their relationship, he was from the District and she was from the Capitol, love had never been an option.

"So, who is this woman who managed the impossible?" Her voice was bright and delighted, like it always was when she needed to hide how miserable she felt. She kept her eyes on the precious baby girl, picking up her pacifier every time she threw it on the couch. "I didn't think Haymitch was the marrying type."

"Her name is Helia." Katniss sighed. "She's from Seven, her first husband was from the Seam, they met during the rebellion so she followed him here, but… He died about a year ago." That was awful, how could she even hate someone with such a tragic past? District Seven… As soon as she made the connection in her mind, she imagined the bride-to-be with Johanna Mason's face. "She's very nice."

There was something in Katniss' voice that made Effie grin. "You don't like her, do you?"

The girl studied her over the rim of her mug. "I liked her well enough until they started seing each other." Katniss said. "I had a huge fight over the wedding with Haymitch. They've been dating for only two months. They're rushing into this for all the wrong reasons. She's still grieving and he…" She let out a sigh and switched topic unexpectedly. "Why didn't you call him? All those years, why…"

"We had a fallout." She would have left it at that, what was the point of reliving the past now that he was getting married? But, of course, Katniss wasn't going to let it drop.

"He asked you to come back to Twelve with him and you refused." The baby got fussy and Katniss instinctively got up to release Effie of her daughter. She walked back and forth in the room, rocking her soothingly. "He said that much but that's all I got out of him."

Effie took her tea, it was cool enough now, so she sipped it slowly, musing about what to say and what to keep to herself. Obviously, Katniss knew most of what had happened between them. She didn't know why Haymitch would have told her, it seemed ridiculous to do that now when their relationship had always mostly been kept a secret. "He asked me to leave my home behind to follow him to a place where people would probably never accept me. I had just been released from prison I wanted to feel safe, he made me feel pressured. I would have been tempted to say yes if he had given me a good reason to do so but all he had to say was that he felt guilty over what happened to me. I didn't need guilt. I needed…" She had needed love. She still needed love.

Katniss seemed to understand though. "You needed time to heal."

Effie smiled her favorite fake smile. "Precisely."

Katniss opened her mouth to say more but the door slammed and Peeta's uncharacteristically angry voice shot out through the house. "He's adamant he's going through with it! Plutarch just got here so I left, this is all so stupid I swear! I should try talking to Helia, maybe she will be more…" Peeta froze on the living-room threshold when he saw her. "Oh, my god, I'm sorry I didn't know you…" He stopped right then and seemed to do a double-take at her. "_Effie_?"

She bolted to her feet to hug him, happy to see him. She had missed the children, she hadn't realized how much until then. "Surprise!" she laughed, in a sing-song voice. "I'm Plutarch's date for the wedding." Peeta went rigid in her embrace and she let go of him.

"It's great to see you, I've missed you." He smiled at her and genuinely meant it, she knew. But then he turned to Katniss and his face grew more serious. "Was that your idea?"

"All Plutarch's." Katniss rolled her eyes, still rocking the baby. "This is a disaster in the making, I don't need you to tell me."

She frowned. "Could someone please explain me what is going on? Because I swear I am not here to cause trouble and everyone acts as if…"

"No one believe you will cause trouble. Trouble will come on its own, I think." Peeta cut her off, before smiling. "And it _is_ really good to see you. It's been too long." She felt a little pacified by his calm reassurance because she knew, of them all, Peeta was the one who never lied. "Now…" He turned to Katniss again. "Plutarch didn't say a thing about Effie being here. How are we playing this exactly?"

Katniss shrugged as much as you could while carrying a baby. "I'm not even sure he knows what he's doing. And even then… Haymitch is so _bloody_ stubborn…"

"No cursing in front of the baby." Peeta reminded her with a playful smile. "And you're one to talk."

Something was going on, something she didn't understand and it was starting to make her feel angry. She hated being kept in the dark since the rebellion. She hated not knowing. Not knowing was dangerous, she had come to learn. "Right. I think I will take a look around before the ceremony. I need to stretch my legs." The children tried to protest, to apologize but she waved them off with a smile and a promise she would see them at the wedding.

She felt distinctly relieved when she stepped out of the house, free somehow. She wasn't fond of closed spaces since her time in jail, even in her apartment she always kept a window open, so she hadn't particularly enjoyed to find herself stuck in a room where people were obviously trying to keep something from her. What were they so afraid of? Katniss thought the wedding was rushed and Peeta obviously agreed but… Was that why Plutarch had brought her there? So she could talk Haymitch out of this? Because this was stupid. She hadn't talked to Haymitch in years and he had never listened to her in the first place. For her to tell him what not to do was the way to ensure he would do it.

She walked down the streets in the approximate direction of the Justice Building, or of where she remembered the Justice Building to be, in any case. It might have moved around in the rebuilding. She didn't even _want_ to be there. She would have been happy to remain oblivious to Haymitch getting married. _He _didn't even want her there she was sure. She should go. She really should.

She was dying to see the bride. The woman who convinced Haymitch Abernathy to marry him two months in their relationship would necessarily be a force to reckon with. She must be beautiful too. Haymitch always had an eye for the pretty girls, it had made her mad with jealousy more than once.

The Justice Building was where it had always been, in front of the big square. Groups of people were already gathering around, probably waiting for the groom and bride, some glanced at her but she let the looks slid. She would always be an escort in the eyes of some people. She went inside, intending to have a look around, see what had changed and what had not, trying to make time go faster. Echoes of laughter greeted her once she was deep in the building and it fekt so out of place – she had never heard anyone laugh in this place before – that she followed it to a little room. The door was open so she peered inside, not very well-mannered that but…

There was the bride, unmistakable because of the long white dress, surrounded by two laughing young girls. Helia wasn't laughing, she wasn't even smiling, Effie could see her face in the mirror in front of her and she looked sad and lost. But that wasn't the worst. That wasn't what made her gasp so audibly everyone in the room turned to face her, no… Helia had wavy strawberry blond hair craftily pinned on the top of her head, blue eyes, sharp cheekbones… They certainly weren't twins but they could have passed for sisters. The girls were gaping at them, obviously picking up on the similarities of their feature but Helia didn't look very surprised.

"You must be Effie." Helia said very calmly, like it was the only logical explanation. "I thought Katniss was exaggerating but she really wasn't, was she?"

Effie searched for something to say but, really… What was there to say? They looked so much alike… Haymitch certainly had a type. She settled for something neutral and non-threatening because Helia obviously knew about her – had Haymitch made it a matter of public concern at some point? – and if their position had been reversed she wouldn't have liked an old flame of her fiancé coming back on their wedding day, all the more so if she had been her spitting image. "I just wanted to offer my congratulations."

"Oh, I don't think congratulations are in order just yet." Helia smiled at her not unkindly. "You're here now." Was Effie imagining the relief in her eyes? What was there to be relieved about she wondered? "Have you come back for him?"

"I… _No_." Why did everybody think she was going to go crazy and try to stop this wedding? "I can assure you I have no intention to spoil your big day. My apologies, this situation is awkward, I shouldn't have come."

She turned around but she couldn't take two steps in the corridor that Helia's hand closed on her arm. "Do you love him? Because you should know he still loves you." Effie concluded right there, right then that everyone was mad in District Twelve. What sort of woman exactly would tell a stranger that her future husband was in love with her? "He calls me Effie when he's too drunk to remember. He loves you still. Always will, I suppose."

She opened and closed her mouth, unable to make sense of the situation. "Why are you marrying him, then?"

Helia smiled this sad smile of hers. "I think it's safe to say the wedding is off. I don't think he will let you go once he sees you again, you're his biggest regret."

It was disturbing to hear her talk about Haymitch like she knew him better than she did. Well… Obviously she must. She was about to commit to a life with him after all, but… Effie had always been the one who knew him best. _Always_. Anyone had been aware of that back then. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

"I don't understand." she freely admitted. "You don't seem upset." And if Helia wasn't upset to potentially lose Haymitch then Katniss was right and this wedding was a mistake. Haymitch deserved someone who loved him fully, who would fight for him, not…

"Because I'm not. That's just the thing, isn't it?" Helia shook her head. "Everyone thought this was a bad idea and we didn't listen but… Don't you see? They were right. We're both marrying ghosts and it's not fair to either of us."

Effie didn't quite know what to say. She thought she would have hated this woman, truth was, she felt bad for her. She obviously was still grieving for her husband and had gotten caught up in everything. It happened more easily than one would think. Effie had had her fair share of bad decisions taken on desperate whims.

"Tell him there's no hard feelings, will you?" Helia said, before pushing her slightly further down in the corridor. "Everything is for the best."

How she found her way out of the Justice Building and up the slope to the late Victors Village, Effie would never know, but she did. By the time she had regained her bearings, she was at his door. She didn't knock but let herself in, feeling strangely like she was walking right into the past. She hadn't been back there since the Quarter Quell Reaping, it was strange and unpleasant, she had to keep reminding herself she wasn't an escort anymore. The house was better kept than it had been : not exempt of a faint smell of liquor but certainly cleaner.

"Dammit, Plutarch!" The curse came from upstairs. She froze and closed her eyes. Hearing his voice was actually painful, like a fist clenching her heart to the point of rupture. "I'm sober enough, I'm dressed, and I _am_ marrying her whatever you or the boy say, so can we get a move on with that tie before we're late to my own bloody wedding?"

She went up the stairs and straight to his bedroom, she stopped on the doorstep. Haymitch didn't look better or worse than the last time she had seen him. Older, certainly, but so was she. He was wearing a grey suit and was desperately trying to knot his tie in front of his broken mirror. It was a good choice, grey looked good on him. Plutarch noticed her first and fell silent which only prompted Haymitch to glance her way.

"Didn't you say it was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding or something?" he grumbled before looking back at his reflection. "I thought I was late. Why aren't you wearing your…"

The very moment it downed on him she wasn't Helia was obvious. His slightly shaky hands froze on his tie, his whole body tense, she could have sworn he had stopped breathing. She couldn't blame him, she was also holding her breath. She could feel Plutarch's concerned stare but she had eyes only for Haymitch.

"Effie." He breathed out her name like a prayer. Or a curse.

"Haymitch." It was soft and unsure.

Their eyes met and it was there again, _the_ _tension_. It almost was too much for her. She wanted to run to him but at the same time she wanted to run away. She wanted to tell him she had missed him and they'd been such fools to waste so much time but at the same time she was desperate to stay silent because each time they opened their mouth they always ended up fighting.

"Right." Plutarch clasped his hands, breaking the moment. "I will just see myself out and tell the others the wedding's off, shall I?"

"I think Helia already did that." Effie bit her lip and stared at the floor.

"Yeah." Haymitch snorted. "Of course, she did." He ripped the tie off his neck and threw it on the bed, before pointing an accusing finger at Plutarch. "That was _low_ and you had _no right_. Get out of my house."

"You were making a mistake." Plutarch shrugged. "You were being a coward, Haymitch, settling for the easy thing, and that's not who you are."

"I am truly sorry, Haymitch." Effie said, before Haymitch could take a step toward Plutarch. A fight between the two wouldn't end well. "I didn't mean to…"

"Didn't you?" His glare went from Plutarch to her in a matter of seconds. "Then why are you here? Did you just come to ruin my life before taking the next train? Was there an empty slot on your schedule and you thought '_oh, why not? It's been too long since I bloody grated on Haymitch's nerves'_?"

"She didn't know. I didn't tell her." Plutarch cut in. "If you want to hold someone responsible…"

"I'm holding you responsible alright." Haymitch growled. "Out. _Now_."

Plutarch glanced at her with worry but she just shook her head to signal him he could leave her. "I will be at Peeta's and Katniss'" he said, before staring hard at Haymitch. "Don't hurt her."

"Right, because it doesn't usually happen the other way around." he mumbled but Plutarch chose not to answer.

It was odd, to say the least, to be alone with Haymitch again. That hadn't happened since…

"So? What are you doing here?" he asked casually enough, taking off the jacket of his suit. "Besides ruining my wedding day, that is." He threw the jacket on the bed, on top of the tie.

"I don't know." She figured it would be better to go for the truth. "Plutarch asked me to be his date at a wedding. I didn't know it would be yours. You could have told me."

"What for?" he shrugged, turning to face her. "Why would you care?"

"I would have cared." She crossed her arms defensively. "I _care_. Very much so."

"Well, I don't." he snapped.

It hurt but she saw the lie underneath. He was trying to protect himself against her. Like she would ever do something to hurt him… "Is that why you were going to marry my doppelganger then? Because you don't care at all about me? Is that why you call her Effie when you're drunk? Is that why…"

"Stop that." he growled, coming closer to her. "I hear that shit from Katniss all the time, I don't need it from you too. Helia knew what she was in for, as did I. Do you think she actually loves me? She wants her husband, I want…" He closed his eyes and turned his back to her. "We were lonely, why not be lonely together? What's wrong with a bit of pretending?"

It was both heartbreaking and twisted. "Why didn't you call _me_, Haymitch? That was all you had to do… I would have come to you, I would have…"

"Why didn't you?" he roared, turning to face her again. "I'm not the one who left you, sweetheart, don't put this one on me."

She instinctively took a step back. She wasn't afraid, that wasn't the problem, but hearing him calling her _sweetheart_… It had been years and it still tugged at her heartstrings. "You were asking too much and not giving enough." she said. "You wanted to take care of me to assuage your guilt."

"Bullshit." he snorted. "Is that what you've been telling yourself all these years? Because that's a lie and you know it. Truth is you loved your little Capitol too much, even after everything, and you…"

"I was _afraid_!" She couldn't take that anymore. "Why is it so hard for you to understand that? I was afraid and all you gave me was guilt, guilt and more guilt."

"Yeah, well, sorry for feeling guilty over you being tortured." Haymitch sneered. "Sorry for all the sleepless night imagining what they were doing to you and knowing it was my fault for not getting you out of there sooner. Sorry for spending months waiting for Plutarch to tell me you were dead. Sorry for wanting to keep you close to me when everything was finally over. _Sorry_." He spat the last word with such bitterness she felt herself tearing up a little.

"I know you felt bad about what happened but I wasn't something for you to fix your guilt." She could feel her hands starting to shake, her breathing was quickening too. It had been months since her last panic attack.

"Stop bringing everything back to guilt!" He stepped closer until he was inches from her and it was too much. Everything was too much. She wasn't ready. "Yes, I felt guilty but that wasn't the whole story and you know it. Guilt was _your_ excuse. You know why I wanted you to come with me. You knew back then and you didn't want to acknowledge it or you didn't feel the same way I don't have a fucking clue! But stop saying this was my fault because you were the one who said I shouldn't bother coming back."

"I never said that." It was weak because it might have been true. She couldn't remember the whole fight, it was blurred and buried deep in her memory because it had been so _painful_ afterwards. She had felt so alone. She still felt alone most of the time.

"What was I supposed _to_ _do_, Effie?" he asked, still advancing on her so she had no choice but to step back until the wall forbid any retreat.

"You left me." she accused him even if she was aware she was being unfair. "_Again_."

"I _had_ to take the kids back, they wouldn't have let them go otherwise." he growled. "I had no choice and you knew that. _You_ chose to stay. _You _left me, not the other way around."

"You never said why you wanted me to come back to Twelve with you." She tried to shove him away because he was too close and it was making her confused but he stood his ground. Even when she started to slam her fist on his chest, he stood his ground. "You said it would be better for me and for the children but you _never said why you wanted_ _me_ to go back with you!"

"Everybody knew it." He grabbed her fists in his hands and pinned them against his chest. "_You_ knew it."

"You never said it." she hissed. "_I_ told you. I told you before the Quell Reaping and you _laughed in my face_."

Any trace of anger left his face then. "I thought I was about to go back into the arena. I didn't want to hear you loved me, sweetheart. I didn't want to leave you behind. That was the icing on the bloody cake, as far as I was concerned. I already did that once, remember, didn't end well for the girl."

"I was _not_ a girl." She struggled to free her hands but he only tightened his grip. "I didn't want your guilt and I didn't want your pity. All I wanted was for you to love me… I would have followed you to the end of the Earth if you had just said that." She felt exhausted all of a sudden and she slumped against his chest, finally yielding to that thirst for his touch.

He let go of her hands to place his on her shoulders. "Everybody knew I loved you. Scratch that, everybody knows I _love_ you, I'm the fucking joke of the District." She was trapped between him and the wall but she didn't feel as overwhelmed as she thought she would. He would never hurt her, not physically at least, and she trusted him even then so she leaned against him, breathing in the faint smell of liquor mixed with soap that was so distinctively _Haymitch_ it made her want to cry. He put his arms around her, a little warily, but once she did the same he clang to her like someone was going to come in and try to tear her away from him. "Five years and I couldn't forget you. How ridiculous is that?"

"Less than you marrying someone who looks like me." she replied, clutching at his shirt. "Less than me thinking about you everyday but being too much of a coward to pick up the phone or take a train. I thought about doing it sometimes, but… I didn't know what was worse : loosing you or never having you in the first place. If I had come all the way here just to see that you didn't have any feelings for me at all, that all those years were just about sex…"

"Come on, you cannot think that." He pressed his cheek against the side of her head. "You knew."

"I didn't." she refuted. "You never said _anything_. I knew you cared for me, that's it, and I wanted more."

"Did you find more somewhere else?" he asked, carefully.

"There is nowhere else." she sighed, nestling her head on his shoulder. She had tried, after he had left. She had dated a few men who liked her well enough, loved her even maybe, but she couldn't bring herself to feel anything for them, so she had given up on that. "There is nobody else but you. Never will be." Because if five years had not been enough, she was sure she wouldn't find someone else in her entire lifetime. Nobody would understand her like Haymitch did. They had been through too much together.

"Are you staying, then?" His embrace was so unyielding she didn't think a negative answer to that question was possible.

"Perhaps." She closed her eyes. "But five years is a long time. We're different people, now, Haymitch, what if…"

"Do you love me?" How many times would she be asked that question today?

"Yes." Despite everything or because of everything, maybe. She did.

"Good." He kissed the side of her throat softly, his stubble rasped against her skin. "Then, it doesn't matter. You stay, we annoy each other to death, we fight, we make up. We were always very good at making up." By that he meant sex but she couldn't deny him that point. "You stay."

"I stay." She agreed. She could try. They could try.

He kissed her then. Effie didn't know when their last kiss had been. She thought it was sometimes before the arena exploded, before all hell broke loose… He had kissed her goodbye but she had been half-asleep. It had been quick, almost an afterthought. That kiss was anything but quick. It was slow and hungry and desperate. It was longing and hope and relief.

It was love.


	22. Thirteen

Original Prompt : You really need to do something with Finnick crush on Effie i would to see something maybe as a Victory Present from Snow he sends Finnick to Effie to "congratulate" her and Haymitch gets really jealous and he doesnt know why oh well he does but he is just denying it! abd the same time Snow send a girl you for Haymitch just to screw with them a little bit cause Snow have a feeling on what is happening between the two ... of course Effie wont do anything, she sees Finnick like a Son but Haymitch on the other hand... welll you can work from there!

_**Thirteen**_.

Effie flopped down on the penthouse living-room's couch with none of her usual refinement. According to her watch, it was close to three in the morning, she had spent half the night talking, smiling and thanking sponsors and Gamemakers, the Capitol was still in uproar about their new victors, and she was utterly worn-out. Haymitch, of course, made a bee-line for the liquor cart.

"Pour me one, would you?"

He lifted an eyebrow in amusement but didn't question her, he did as she asked and came to sit next to her, careful not to spill the glasses full to the rim.

"I'm exhausted." she sighed, relieving him of her glass. She took a sip and made a face at the bitter taste of whiskey.

"You and me both." he said before clinging his glass to hers. "To victory."

"To victory." She downed a third of her glass in one go. "I hate whiskey."

"I know." He snorted. "But it was that or brandy and you hate brandy even more."

"Very true." She smiled, letting her head fall on the back of the couch before closing her eyes. She should start making to-do lists. There was so much to do… Katniss and Peeta would stay in medical care for a day or two but there was the crowning and the interviews to plan, not to mention the Victory Tour and… The pile of things she would have to take care of was making her dizzy. Or perhaps that was the whiskey and the exhaustion catching up on her. When had she last eaten? She couldn't remember.

"Don't fall asleep on me." Haymitch warned, taking her glass from her hand. She heard the clinging noise it made when he set it down on the table and she wanted to tell him to be more careful but... "I'm not carrying you to your room." She didn't find the strength to open her eyes but she felt the couch dip further next to her and she knew he had matched her pose. Dangerous that. If they fell asleep there, and they were, they would wake up with creaks in the neck. And yet she couldn't bring herself to care.

She was most definitely drifting off when she heard the chime of the elevator announcing visitors. Haymitch was on his feet, tense and a hand half-way to the hilt of his knife, before she had properly opened her eyes. It wasn't only his usual anxiety, it was the berries, Katniss' stunt had upset more than one high-class citizens. He only relaxed when he saw Finnick saunter in the room, followed by Moria, District Six latest victor, three years back if Effie's memory was to be trusted – and it was. Now, Finnick was a common visitor but the girl? Effie had never even spoken to her.

Haymitch's eyes glided from Finnick to the girl and lifted an eyebrow. "What now?"

"Haymitch, really!" she chided him, getting to her feet and slapping his arm in the process. "_Manners_. Don't mind him. What can we do for you?"

Finnick opened his arms wide and let them fall, wolfish smile on his lips. "Just here to congratulate you. That party was crowded, we didn't get a chance to talk." He by-passed Haymitch completely and went to press a kiss to her cheek. "Congrats." He slumped on the couch and nodded to the girl who was awkwardly eying them both. "Haymitch, you know Moria? She would like a word in private, don't you, Moria?"

The girl nodded but didn't look more at-ease. How old was she? Eighteen? Nineteen? Old enough that Haymitch had felt no shame in ogling her in the sponsors lounge once or twice but Effie had deemed her too young and too shy to be a threat, not like Mason, that one she could go without. Not that what Haymitch did and with whom was any of her business, she didn't want to have to handle that kind of mess. His behavior reflected on her, he was her responsibility and she wasn't _at all_ in favor of him having an affair with anyone.

"Right." Haymitch sighed. "Why not."

Effie watched him step out of the living-room, wondering what that was about. Odd, in any case.

"Can I interest you in something to drink?" she offered Finnick, because it was the proper thing to do. Asking him how long he meant to stay and if it really couldn't wait after she had at least slept an hour or two would have been a poor way to treat a friend.

"All set." He winked "Come sit with me. You look ready to collapse."

"I am." she confessed, taking back her place on the couch. "I never knew winning would be this hard."

Finnick scooted over and placed a comforting hand on her knee before stretching his other arm on the back on the couch behind her, effectively trapping her between him and the armrest. "You need to relax." He squeezed her knee, his thumb tracing pattern against her skin. "You won, it's your night. You have to enjoy it."

This was weird. Very weird. And she wasn't comfortable at all with the way he was touching her. It wasn't friendly. It was… "What are you doing?"

"Helping you relax." His hand rode up her thigh, she grabbed it before it could go further than the hem of her skirt.

Her heart was beating frantically in her chest. "Finnick, stop."

He didn't remove his hand. "Are you sure? Because I was asked _specifically_ to make sure this would be a night to remember for you." His smile was strained and there was something pleading in his eyes. "Whatever you want from me, Effie, it's yours."

She wanted to throw up at the mere idea of what he was suggesting. She whacked his hand away, as good-naturedly as she could under the circumstances. "Don't be silly."

Something akin to relief passed on his face and he winked at her, a little more playfully. "Well, can't blame a man for trying, can you?"

She rolled her eyes, like she always did when he made that kind of comment, and then frowned. "Where's Haymitch?"

Finnick winced. "Enjoying his own gift, I would say."

She stiffened. "He wouldn't." That poor, poor girl…

"I don't know." He shrugged. "Hard to tell what people would and wouldn't do sometimes."

"He wouldn't." she hissed, angry at him for even suggesting it. She bolted to her feet and strode to the door. She was almost there when Finnick caught her arm and dragged her back against his chest.

"Don't." he said. "I'm grateful for what you did but that was _your_ choice, Effie. If there's a problem with Moria it will fall down on her, not on Haymitch, not on you but on _her_."

"Let me go!" she demanded, struggling against his grip but he was stronger than her and when he forced her to turn around she had no choice but to comply. "Finnick, stop that!"

"I'm protecting her." He pinned her against his chest. "I'm trying to help. If you would just listen to me…"

"Let me go!"

"Let her go." Haymitch's voice boomed out in the living-room. Finnick and Effie froze at the same time but he was quick to let go of her once Haymitch actually stepped in the living-room. "What do you _think_ you're doing?"

"Where's the girl?" Effie asked, pretending not to see the way he was glaring at Finnick.

"Where do you think?" he scoffed. "Back to her floor with a 'thanks but no thanks' card. Thank _you_ for the heads up, by the way, Finnick, I bloody love desperate teenagers throwing themselves at me." His face hardened. "Of course, _he's_ not so young anymore. You may want to have a shot, sweetheart, am I in the way?"

"Don't be preposterous" she snapped. "Finnick was just leaving."

"Was I?" Finnick grinned jokingly. They had always been good friends, the three of them, but when he caught sight of Haymitch's face, Finnick sobered up quickly. "I _was, _actually. I will see both of you tomorrow I'm sure."

Effie had never seen him exit a room so quickly. "Enjoying yourself, there, princess ?" Haymitch asked, too abruptly for her taste, once he was out. "What were you doing with him?"

"Nothing." She was slightly vexed by his implications. "Please, I've known him since he was fifteen." He was like the little brother she had never wanted and she loved him dearly but… not like that. She hugged herself tightly. "What was that all about, Haymitch?"

She was so upset she wasn't even tired anymore. Her distress seemed to deflate his anger somehow and he went to pour himself a drink. "_That_ was a statement from President Snow. He has taken an interest in us."

"In us?" Something coiled in her stomach and she instinctively took the glass he was holding out for her and downed it in one go. She shuddered. Whiskey again. "Why?"

Haymitch leaned against the couch, sipping his liquor slowly. His eyes were sharp despite the amount of alcohol he had that day. "If I were you I would avoid berries from now on."

She rubbed her eyes, forgetting to care about her make-up which, she was sure, was probably already smudged anyway. "But why _that_?"

"What do I know…" he sighed. "To create a ridge between us? To see if we would play their games?"

She didn't ask what he meant. She knew how she would have reacted if he had chosen to sleep with the girl just like she knew how _he _would have reacted if she had slept with Finnick. She would have resented it. She would have felt disgusted. She would have hated him. "We didn't play their games."

"Exactly." He looked at her with a grave face. "And by now he probably knows it, which means we're both a potential threat. Should we drink to that?"

It was probably rhetoric but she stepped closer, snatched his glass and downed that one too. It was starting to make her feel numb which was perfect really because she would take numb over fear any day. "We're in _so_ _much_ trouble."

"You should have slept with him." he said. "It wouldn't have bothered him _that_ _much_. He's been crushing on you since day one."

"Once again, don't be daft. Of course I wasn't about to sleep with Finnick." She leaned against the couch, next to him, so they were both miserably looking at the door side by side. "If they wanted me to sleep with someone, they should have sent an older victor."

"Yeah?" he snorted. "I would pay millions to see Chaff propositioning you."

She couldn't help but giggle at the thought, she would have ripped Chaff's head off, victor or not. She smacked his arm lightly. "Be serious."

"I _am_ serious." And he probably was.

"I would never sleep with Chaff either even if you paied _me_." There was no love lost between Chaff and her.

"See, you're too picky." he shrugged.

They burst out laughing at the same time. She didn't know if it was the alcohol or the stress of the past few days that was catching up with them but she couldn't help herself.

"How bad is it ?" she asked once they both calmed down. "On a scale of one to ten."

Haymitch sighed and then smiled as if it was the best joke in the world, but she didn't understand what was funny. "Thirteen."


	23. Asking

Prompt: Haymitch sees Effie in her underwear. Victory tour? Thank-you if you do it!:)

_**Asking**_

Haymitch rushed through the train corridors, barely aware of Portia's presence behind him shadowing him, Effie was shaking so badly in his arms he was afraid she was going to have a stroke or something like that. He didn't know how things could have gone _that_ bad so quickly. The dining-room of District Eight Mayor's house had been stuffy and hot, Portia and Effie under all their make-up and heavy dresses had been suffocating so they had stepped outside for a bit of fresh air under the vigilant eyes of Peacekeepers. Haymitch and Cinna had gone with them because, unlike Peeta and Katniss, they could actually _take_ five minutes of fresh air. There had been small talk and even light laughter and then all of a sudden someone from the District had lunged themselves at them, screaming murder for the Capitol. The man had been alone and clearly not very bright, or maybe too desperate to care for his own life, because the nearest Peacekeeper had shot him in the head but he had been close enough that blood had splattered on Effie who had promptly released a piercing shriek before practically fainting on the spot. Haymitch had caught her, bridal style, and had demanded to be escorted back to the train while Cinna went back inside to take care of the kids. Effie was so distraught Portia had come with him to try and soothe her.

It felt like ages before he finally reached Effie's bedroom. Portia opened the door for him and he automatically went for the bed but the stylist stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Don't. She will have a fit if you put blood on the sheets." Portia looked really pale underneath her make-up, she was shivering too, but Haymitch could only handle one distressed woman at a time.

"Okay." he said, knowing if he ignored Portia it would only mean they would have to change the sheets at some point. "Effie, can you stand?" He let go of her legs warily but she didn't release her hold on his neck so he wrapped his arms around her waist, just in case. She was muttering something he didn't quite understand. "What?"

She let go of him, then, and in the second before she went in total hysterics, he saw the wild terror in her eyes. It was very different to see people die on a screen and to see someone be killed right in front of you. "Take this off me!" she yelled. She pulled at her stained dress, she struggled with the strings but she only managed to tighten them and when Haymitch tried to help she pushed him away. "I want it off! I want it _off_!" She ripped her wig right from her head, pins flew everywhere in the room, and then she collapsed on the floor, sobbing. Her blond hair veiled her face. "I want it _off_."

Haymitch immediately crouched next to her, noticing the red dress wasn't the only thing sporting darker smudges, there was blood on her arms and her cleavage. "It's okay, sweetheart, I've got you. It's over. I will take it off. I've got you."

"I can do it." Portia offered, stepping forward. Her voice was a little unsteady but he didn't think she was about to have the same kind of meltdown Effie had. "You should probably go back to the mayor's. Katniss and Peeta…"

"Cinna will bring them back." he said. "She needs me more than they do right now."

He struggled with the strings holding the dress together, they were so tight he didn't know how she could even breathe, no matter how he tried, the knot wasn't giving. Effie leaned against him. "Take it off." she begged.

Portia was still hovering near the door. "Are you sure? Because she's not herself right now and… I'm not sure she would find that very proper for you to…"

"I don't really care what she finds proper or not, I'm not leaving her alone." he cut her off, appreciating her concern but there was no need for that really. He liked Portia and Cinna but, while he considered them friends, he had known Effie for far longer than them and he wasn't about to leave her with people they had met a year ago when he was there to take care of her himself. She was his escort, she had taken care of him enough times, he could do the same. All the more so when some lunatic had lost it and had tried to jump at her throat. He was all for revolution but not for stupid actions like that one. It could have been anyone out there, from Katniss to an innocent passer-by. That kind of action was gratuitous and everything they were trying to avoid. "Go to Cinna. Make sure the kids don't suspect anything."

She nodded and closed the door behind her, she looked relieved when she left and, to be honest, Haymitch was too because it meant he could focus on the sobbing Effie slouched on the floor. She seemed calmer now, though, even if she was still shaking. The girdle part of her dress however was still resisting his fingers and her sluggish attempts at pulling it down wasn't helping much. "You and your bloody fashion." he cursed, before taking out his pocket knife. Under normal circumstances, she would have killed him for even coming closer to her precious clothes with a blade but, right then, she stood still while he sliced through the numerous lacing holding the dress together. It finally loosened and she couldn't step out of it quickly enough, it seemed. She kicked it to the other side of the room and then did the same with her high heels, nearly falling down on him in the process.

He tried really hard not to look at the black knickers and strapless bra or at the amount of tantalizing creamy white skin usually hidden from view because if there ever was a time to not have inappropriate thoughts about her, it was now. She was still shivering and partially covered in blood splatters. "Shower." he suggested. She looked at him like they didn't speak the same language, so he guided her to the small bathroom en-suited to her cabin and turned on the shower, checking the water wasn't too hot. Her sobbing had turned into a sort of soft whimpering that was breaking his heart. "Come on."

She was too shocked to do it by herself, he realized. She was scratching at the blood on her arms so he caught her hand, toed off his shoes and got rid of his jacket. There was no other option, he supposed, as he steered her under the flow of water. It wasn't long before his clothes were completely soaked but the situation was complicated enough without him stripping down too. He carefully washed the blood from her skin first, making absolutely sure there was none left, and then, he took care of her smudged make-up. There were so many layers of powder it actually took longer than he would have thought. He couldn't remember having ever seen her without her heavy make-up, without the wig, yes, it had happened once or twice, but never without powder and fake eyelashes and all that crap she caked her face with. She looked almost naked without it, younger, frailer…

"I'm sorry." she said, once he had removed the last traces of powder off her neck. Water poured over them, streaming down their cheeks, the bathroom was beginning to get full of steam, it was getting harder to breathe. Haymitch's eyes followed a drop of water, it rolled from her forehead to the top of her bra and he concluded the shower had been one of his worst idea. Torture. _Pure_ torture. "I shouldn't… I don't know what came over me." She was shivering despite the fact that the water was warm enough to make their skin reddish, so he knew she was still in shock.

"Someone got killed right in front of you." he shrugged. "You lost it. That's alright."

She closed her eyes. "It wasn't just that, it's… The blood." She winced and scratched at her arm again, he grabbed her hand before her sharp fake nails could puncture the skin. "Are you sure you got all of it off?"

"I'm sure." he promised.

"Good." she breathed out before wrapping her arms around his waist. "Good. Thank you."

"You're fine." He hugged her back, pressing a kiss against the side of her head. "You're just fine." He allowed himself to breathe properly since that man had came screaming at them. He had aimed straight for Effie, the obvious Capitol target, and Haymitch had been too far away to shield her with his body like Cinna had done for Portia. If the Peacekeeper hadn't fired… He never thought a day would come when he would be glad for Peacekeepers, but, god forgive him, he _was_. "Let's never do that again." He felt her nod against his shoulder. "Do you feel better?"

She clutched at his drenched shirt. "Just hold me a little while longer."

That was something he could do easily. He wasn't sure exactly how long they stayed under the running water but it took a very long time before Haymitch's heartbeat calmed down to a more regular rhythm. He would have been glad to stay there forever if anyone had asked him, his hands gliding on the skin of her shoulders, her back, her lower back… He wanted to touch all of her, to make sure she was alright and whole.

He wondered if friends usually did that for each others : platonically embracing in the shower, one fully clothed and the other practically naked. He wondered what it told about them that it didn't feel weird. He wondered what it told about _him_ that he actually thought, for a second, when that man had lunged at her, that there was no point in rebelling without her. She was his friend, she was his family, just like Katniss and Peeta had become part of that close circle of people he cared about. He had never wanted to be back in the position where he could lose someone so close to him and, yet, there he was, holding a woman who, he was becoming more and more sure by the day, he couldn't phantom his life without anymore.

The water turned cold at some point and Haymitch cut it off with a sigh. Time to go back to reality. He helped her out of the shower because he really didn't need her to slip and crack his head open and wrapped her in one of those fluffy white towels that never stayed white for long in his own bathroom. "You're soaked." she said, blinking slowly. She was still a little out of it but she looked better, she wasn't as pale as she had been earlier.

"Did I ever tell you how observant you are?" he joked but there wasn't anything funny in the way she seemed to shrink into her towel. "Get dry or you will catch your death. I'm going to make sure the kids are alright and I'm coming back to check on you."

Her eyes widened. "The children! I should…" She took a step towards the door, dropping her towel next to the sink but he stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm.

"I will take care of the kids." He nudged her back. "You take care of yourself." He stopped on the doorstep, turning back one last time to commit to memory the sight of her in her underwear because, really, he didn't know when he would be able to see her like that again. Now wasn't the right time to begin something between them, not with everything that was happening out there. The further she was from him, the safer she was.

The first stop he made was his room. Cinna was sitting on his bed, waiting for him, his face was closed and obviously displeased. "You took your time." he sighed. "What happened to you?" he frowned at the state he was in.

"Shower." Haymitch mumbled, ignoring Cinna's questioning look. "The kids?"

"Katniss and Peeta have gone to bed. I told them Effie wasn't feeling that well and you had taken her back to the train. I'm not sure they believed it."

"That was too _fucking_ close." Haymitch growled, going directly to the bathroom to get rid of his damp clothes. "That's exactly what I was afraid of. We're losing control."

"How's Effie?" Cinna asked, from the bedroom.

"I don't know. Shaken but she's tough. She will snap out of it." He toweled himself quickly and pulled on the shirt and pants he wore to bed when he wasn't too drunk to change clothes. "How's Portia?"

"Not that great. I'm going back to her, now, if you don't need me anymore."

Haymitch told him to go and exited his room himself, after a few minutes. He stopped at Peeta's door and heard absolutely nothing inside, however, he could hear hushed whispers in Katniss' cabin. Effie would have his balls as soon as she realized they were sleeping together. He was actually surprised she hadn't gone ballistic about it already. He made another stop at the bar cart and came back to Effie's room. According to his estimation, he had only be gone for twenty to twenty-five minutes, not that long for anything to go wrong he hoped.

He didn't bother knocking. She was sitting in her bed, under the covers, hugging her knees. "Would you get rid of it, please?" she asked, as soon as he closed the door behind him. "The dress. I don't want to see it again and I don't want to touch it. Get rid of it for me, please."

It was still in the corner, a useless heap of red taffeta. He put the two mug he had brought with him on her nightstand before picking up the dress. What to do with it he wondered? And then, it came to him. He walked to her window and opened it with some difficulty, it probably wasn't made to be used. The train was running fast and wind rushed into the room, he quickly bundled up the dress and forced it through the small gap. It was torn from his hand and gone from sight in a matter of seconds. "There's a tree in this forest that will be very fashionable."

She smiled but didn't answer so he leaned against the wall to watch her silently, assessing her state of mind. She looked better, he decided, less prone to have a panic attack in the following minutes. She took one of the mugs and made a face as soon as she sipped from it. "What _is_ that?"

"Your herbal tea." He rolled his eyes. Trust her to never be happy when he tried to be thoughtful. "I made sure they gave me the right one."

"Did you spice it up?" she winced.

"Ah, yeah, no… The spiced one is mine."

"Not anymore, it isn't." she sipped it slowly. "You will have to fight me for it."

"Do you think I won't?" He smirked. Couldn't help it really, she was too fun to tease. "Fight you when you're in bed… God knows how that would end up… Where's your sense of propriety?"

"I think I lost it in the shower along with my dignity and my make-up." she joked but her heart wasn't in it, he could tell. "Thank you for… taking care of me."

"My pleasure, sweetheart." He shrugged. "Besides, the view wasn't bad."

She rolled her eyes, put the mug back on the nightstand and burrowed under her covers, lying on her side so she could see him. He should take that as a signal it was time to go, there was a bottle of whiskey with his name on it waiting for him in his room anyway. He lingered where he was for several minutes, just looking at her, just making sure she was alright.

"Would you stay?" Her hair was still damp from earlier, it was leaving a water stain on her pillow. "If I asked you, would you stay?"

Haymitch was aware he should have gone. He really, _really_ should have gone. He knew why this wasn't a good idea. There were thousands of reasons and the most important one was that it wasn't safe for either of them. "Are you asking?"

She pulled back the covers on the other side of the bed. There was something in her eyes… Something demanding and unrelenting and he wanted to tell her to stop, to not cross that line because they _needed_ that line. She knew they needed it as well as he did. She didn't know everything but she knew some of the things, and what he had not tell her she had probably guessed. She was clever that way. _They needed the line_.

But that was the funny thing about lines in the sand. They were easy to blur. Sometimes, all it took was three little words.

"I am asking."


	24. Behind Closed Doors

original prompt : Haymitch and Effie are bickering and at each others throats more than usual (and more seriously ... nagging and yelling etc) so Katniss gets an idea to lock them together in a room until they sort it out, Peeta goes along with it even though he thinks they will kill each other instead of getting along, that is until he hears giggling and moans from behind the door XD.

_**Behind Closed Doors**_

"Katniss! Katniss, wait!" Peeta ran after her as fast as his leg would allow him but Katniss didn't slow down like she usually would. She was done with waiting. "Katniss, think this through, please. This isn't a good idea."

She was fed up – and that was a nice euphemism to say she was utterly done – with their neighbors. Peeta and she had been enjoying a calm, _relaxing_ day together when shouts and insults had started flying in through the open window. Now, that wouldn't have been a real problem if they couldn't _still_ hear them once the window had been closed, she could have _maybe_ even forgiven that if this ridiculous fight had not been going on for four _bloody_ endless days.

She loved Haymitch and Effie to death, she _really_ did, but it might be time for them to reconsider their living arrangements. Either they managed to get along or Effie should find another house close by. They had always fought, of course, Peeta and Katniss were used to that, expected it even, but it had taken a sour turn nowadays. Effie was constantly nagging Haymitch to stop or at least decrease his drinking and Haymitch was livid over some changes she had made in the house and kept telling to whoever wanted to listen that she was trying to transform the house into a candy box and he wasn't about to stand for it. Unfortunately, Katniss and Peeta being their closest neighbors and their closest friends could never escape their fights and that when they weren't outright dragged in the middle of it. Katniss was done with that. Bickering, she could take. Yelling and name calling? Not so much. Effie had come there to recover, as far as Katniss was concerned, she had recovered. Now, they all wanted to keep her in Twelve but Katniss was almost ready to build her a house with her bare hands if that meant she could cuddle with her fiancé on the couch in peace for _one hour_.

"Katniss…" Peeta tried again, as they reached the pen. Even _the geese_ didn't quack loud enough to cover the argument between the two people throwing them bread. Well, _some_ of the bread went into the pen at least. The rest was thrown at each other's face.

"You take Effie." she told Peeta. "I will handle Haymitch."

"This is stupid." He sighed but she knew he would do as she asked. He always did.

"The study." she reminded him. "It's the closest."

It was also in a state of disuse given that Effie had started to redecorate it at some point but the project had fallen short because of Haymitch's usual uncooperativeness.

"You two, enough!" she demanded as soon as she was close enough to be heard over their yelling. Haymitch stopped mid-rant and Effie unfolded her arms, switching her glare for a delighted smile at seeing them. Katniss didn't bother explaining, she grabbed Haymitch's wrist and pulled him through the back door and into the house.

"What do you think you're doing?" he grumbled, struggling a little against her grip. He didn't want to hurt her, though, and she wasn't leaving him a chance to escape. She lead him to the middle of the study, empty but for a desk, a chair and a moth-eaten carpet, and then turned around to find a puzzled Effie and a grinning Peeta.

"Katniss, what's going on?" Effie asked, a little worried. "Really, this isn't how it's done. Where are your manners?"

"With my patience, evaporated into thin air." she snapped, stomping to the corridor where Peeta was waiting for her. "Now, remember when I joked about locking you up in a room until you learn how to get along without shouting? Congratulations, I'm not joking anymore."

She had barely enough time to see the consternation of Effie's face and the anger on Haymitch's before she slammed the door shut and turned the key. Someone, and she was betting on Haymitch, barreled against the door with their fists. Then, it stopped abruptly.

"Don't do that you will only get hurt." Effie's voice chided him.

"Don't tell me what to do." Haymitch's voice replied.

"Oh, then, by all means, try to kick the door down but don't ask me to hold your hand when you have to go the hospital because your shoulder is out of its socket." Effie replied shortly. "Last time, you cried like a baby."

"I did not." Haymitch said petulantly.

"You were _drunk_." she snapped.

"And if my memories are correct, so were you!" Haymitch retorted.

Peeta looked at her and sighed. "They are going to kill each other."

"They need to sort it out." Katniss persisted, sitting down in front of the door. "It can't go on like this."

"It won't go on like this if they kill each other." Peeta pointed out but he sat next to her.

Katniss let out a sigh of her own and got ready for a long wait.

"I wasn't drunk! I only had two glasses." _Effie_.

"You're such a light-weight _a glass_ is enough to get you drunk, sweetheart!" _Haymitch_.

"_Even_ _if_ I was drunk, what does it have to do with you plummeting down the stairs at that victory party?" _Effie_.

"I didn't _plummet down the stairs_. I missed a step." _Haymitch_.

"You were hoping from step to step on one leg. This was stupid, as I recall telling you more than once at the time." _Effie_.

"It was a dare." _Haymitch_.

"It was a _stupid _dare." _Effie_.

"If they're back to victory parties, we'll be here until next month." Peeta let his head fall against the door.

"Well, they will get hungry eventually. I won't let them out until they manage to talk politely to each other." Katniss said.

"It was less stupid than _your bloody lamp_!" _Haymitch_.

"And we're back to the lamp again." Katniss snuggled against Peeta, perfectly aware of all the drama surrounding the lamp Haymitch had accidentally – or not, that part of the story was still open for debate – broken a month ago.

"You did that on purpose!" _Effie_.

"Don't be ridiculous, if I had to get rid of one of these ugly things you keep putting into the house, the lamp wouldn't be my first choice." _Haymitch_.

"Oh, I'm ridiculous, now, am I?" _Effie_.

"We should have made sure there was no possible weapon in the room." Peeta was joking but his words were laced with real concern. Katniss didn't think he should worry about that. Haymitch and Effie were old friends, and like old friends, they bickered. All they needed was just to learn out to actually _speak_ to each other without shouting.

"Yes, you _are_ ridiculous. Slightly less than when you paraded around looking like a clown, I will give you that, but you still are ridiculous." _Haymitch_.

"A clown? _A clown? Really_, Haymitch? After all those years, you're still calling me a _clown_? " _Effie_.

There was a clang, then, and the unmistakable noise of things falling or being thrown about… Peeta and Katniss bolted to their feet.

"They have stopped yelling." Peeta said. "They _never_ stop yelling."

There was a violent bang against the door and then silence. Utter silence.

Peeta and Katniss looked at each other. "Do you think…?" she asked, but she couldn't bring herself to finish her question. Haymitch would never hurt Effie, would he? And surely Effie wouldn't hurt Haymitch either? "Should we… check?"

Peeta pressed his ear to the door just as she unlocked it. He grabbed her wrist before she could open it, eyes wide and looking a little green in the face. "You really don't want to do that." He stepped away from the door like it was burning him.

"What are you on about?" she frowned, putting her face closer to the door to hear what was happening inside. She got the idea pretty quickly. She could have pretended Effie's giggles were due to a joke or something else but Haymitch's deep raw moan… was something she never, _ever_ had wanted to hear. She nearly fell in her haste to get out of there. "What _the_ _hell_? Since when do they… They…" She made a face at the very idea. The door rattled again and Effie's moan and breathless call for Haymitch were loud enough for them to hear.

"This is deeply, _deeply_ unsettling." Peeta shook his head and held out his hand with pleading eyes. "Let's go home?"

"Home is too close." Katniss winced. "We should find another house. The other end of the District sounds good."

They ran more than they walked out of the house and stopped near the pen where the geese were still quacking their displeasure away.

Peeta and Katniss' eyes met and they started laughing until they were bent in two and Peeta actually fell on the ground. "We're never going to live that down." He gasped between two chuckles. "_Never_."


	25. All We Have

I always thought that Effie was secretly way more smart and caring than the books made her out to be. In fact, I imagine her secretly hating the games and her job as an escort. Like, maybe Snow and the government picks certain Capitol citizens and makes them work a certain job for the Games. Could you please write a one-shot where Haymitch finds out that Effie hates her job and the Games, wishes for a rebellion, and only dresses and acts like she does so she doesnt get in trouble with Snow?

_**All We Have**_

"Stop that." she ordered again, dragging him through the swirling crowd gathered on the Capitol Square, busy watching their precious Games on the big screens. "Stop right now, Haymitch."

He could tell she was frightened but he didn't know by what, nor did he really cared. He was so drunk every worry seemed to fade away in the background and looked more like a joke than an actual concern.

"Why?" he laughed, struggling to get rid of the surprisingly firm grip she had on his arm. "Don't they want to know the truth, sweetheart? All these people…" He caught a random shoulder in the crowd and found himself faced with a dyed blue skin man with fake eyelashes. How utterly _ridiculous_. "I hate you." The man opened his eyes so wide, the eyelashes fluttered up and down and up and down and Haymitch laughed again, it was so _ridiculous_.

"Oh, dear, I'm _so_ sorry, sir." He barely listened to Effie's apologizing on his behalf, he was laughing too hard. Only when she pulled on his arm again, dragging him far from the Square into less crowded streets, did he notice the tension in her.

"I _hate_ them all." Haymitch said again. He thought it was kind enough of him not to include her in that. "I loathe them all, I want…"

"Shut up." she hissed, her nails digging painfully into his skin. "Shut _the bloody hell_ up."

It was the language rather than the pain that made him actually fall silent. She never spoke like that. She had a stroke every time he said 'damn'. It was so shocking and so unexpected he let her steer him through streets and alleys until he understood she wasn't taking him back to the penthouse. They stopped in front of an anonymous building, she forced him into an elevator and then into an apartment and unto a couch. She towered over him, then, as angry as he had ever seen her, and she pointed a furious finger at his chest.

"I'm getting you coffee, focus on sobering up because you're not getting _anywhere_ in _public_ until you're in control of what comes out of your mouth." she said, slamming her purse on the small table in front of the couch. She disappeared in another room he assumed to be the kitchen, leaving him dumbfounded, slightly dizzy and utterly confused.

"Where are we?" he asked, when she came back with a mug full of coffee. The buzz of the liquor had died down. "Whose apartment is this? Your boyfriend?" He sneered the last part like it was an impossible notion. It was cruel, perhaps, but he felt like being cruel that day. His tributes were dead, _again_, but the girl had lasted two days and he had let himself hope. He couldn't do anything without sponsors, though, and she hadn't been interesting enough.

"Mine, obviously." She sighed. She looked calmer, sadder – like she always did when they lost a tribute.

Haymitch frowned and looked around again, sipping the scalding black coffee. "Did you just move in or something?" It didn't look at all like what he expected. The wall were painted in a light brown shade, it was sparsely but sensibly furnished… No over the top eccentricities, no glaring colors… "Seems a bit dull for your tastes."

"What would you know of my tastes, Haymitch?" It was even more bitter than his coffee.

"They're usually bad." he snorted.

"Right." She sounded hurt, now, which made him feel bad. She was infuriating most of the time but she had never tried to hurt him on purpose. Unlike him. "Look, Haymitch, I know you're… frustrated by what happened, I am too, but you can't go and say things like that in public."

"Why do you care?" he mumbled, slumping back against the couch.

She seemed to ponder the question for a few seconds before sitting down on the chair closest to him. "I don't have to tell you what happen to people who aren't… _admirers_, shall we say, of the Capitol." She wriggled her hands in her laps nervously. "Do you think you can go out in the streets and tell every Capitol citizen you hate them without any consequences?"

"Are you afraid for me, sweetheart?" he smirked.

"The world does _not_ revolve around _you_, Haymitch." she snapped. "You're a victor. They won't touch _you_. They will punish you through other people."

He chuckled darkly and finished his coffee in three long mouthful. It wasn't booze but it was something to drink. "Been there, done that. No one left, now. They can't do anything to me." He carefully didn't let himself think about his family or his girlfriend.

"Good for you." she said. "_I_ have a family and I'd rather keep it that way if it's all the same to you."

"What are you on about, now?" he rubbed his forehead. Her coffee, the lack of liquor, the topic and her voice were giving him a headache. "Your family is nothing to me. They're safe."

She sighed. "It's very simple, Haymitch. I've been telling you for years but you _never_ _listen_. You're District Twelve victor, I'm District Twelve escort, your behavior reflects on me."

Something cold twisted his guts. He felt sober all of sudden. "What are you saying?"

There was that bitterness again in her voice. "I would have thought you could understand on your own. Do I have to spell it for you?"

Where were the smiles? The silly small talk about manners and fashion? The bundle of cheerful hope she always was? The naivety with which she always talked about her precious little Capitol? "Effie?" He was worried suddenly. Had they threatened her because of the way he acted?

"I am responsible for you." She said harshly. "It is _my_ _job_ to make sure you don't embarrass the Capitol. When you go and tell publicly that you hate the Capitol, I fail at my job. There will be consequences. For _me_."

He rolled his eyes, feeling relieved. "What, you're worried about your promotion? You will be Twelve's escort a year longer, what's the big deal? You should have made sure I couldn't get out of the penthouse. Your job, sweetheart. You chose it, you deal with it."

"Oh, I chose it, did I?" she huffed. "For someone who acts as if he knows everything, you're a very ignorant man, Haymitch. You're sober enough now, you can find your way back to the Training Center on your own. Do try not to insult any citizen on the way."

She got up and went into the kitchen, leaving him behind. He heard the banging of cupboard doors and the clanging of pots. He rose from the couch and tested his balance warily but she was right – like she annoyingly often was – and he had sobered up. He dithered between leaving and forgetting this odd out of character Effie or following her into the kitchen to discover what that was about. In the end, curiosity was the strongest and he leaned against her kitchen door, watching her hovering over her stove, throwing things in a pot. Effie cooking. That was… a catastrophe in the making. "Are you trying to burn down the house, sweetheart?"

"Why are you still here?" She dimmed the fire and turned to face him, arms folded across her chest.

"What do you mean I'm ignorant?" he grumbled.

"Never mind." Her face softened a little. "I just wish… Stop treating me like the enemy, please. I am not your enemy."

"You're Capitol." he spat.

"Yes, I'm Capitol." She lifted her chin proudly. "And contrary to what you seem to believe this isn't an insult. The Capitol doesn't mean Snow." She lowered her voice. "Do you think the Capitol is a freer place than the Districts? Do you _really_ think that? Because let me tell you, tyranny knows no bounds, Haymitch."

He sneered, thinking back to the tributes he had just lost. "Yes, I'm sure you're exhausted with all that parading around in high heels you do."

"Perhaps I wouldn't be if it had been _my choice_ to parade around in high heels." she hissed. "Perhaps I'm tired of smiling all day long and looking happy when all I want to do is _scream._" She turned her back on him and went to look through the window. "I really need you to leave, now."

Was she _crying_? He could hear the tears in her voice. He didn't like to see her upset, he never did like it, it tugged at something in his chest he liked to pretend was dead. He stepped closer to her, close enough to touch really but he didn't quite dare. He stood behind her and watched the street below. "What the hell is going on, here?" he asked as calmly as he could. This wasn't normal behavior for Effie and it alarmed him.

"I'm tired." she whispered. "And I'm afraid of being tired because that's when you make a mistake. I've seen it before with other escorts. But I'm _tired_, Haymitch."

Was she having a nervous breakdown? Because he wasn't the one to go to for nervous breakdowns. He had had his share of them. "Well, the Games are over for us this year. Go have a lie down. Relax."

"The Games are never over." she sighed, propping an arm against the window and leaning her forehead against it. "You should know that."

"Stop being bloody cryptic." he growled. "What's wrong? What's all this talk about choices?"

He had a bad feeling about this. He wouldn't like it, he knew.

She glanced back at him thoughtfully and then shrugged – again, something she never did because it was rude or whatever. "In the Districts, they put your names on pieces of paper and pick one out at random." She turned back to the window and closed her eyes. "Reapings in the Capitol aren't that fair. You said something to someone you think you can trust because you don't know yet that you can trust _no_ _one_, and you're on their list. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

"Effie, do you…" He was terrified of what she was implying, because…

"I said to my boyfriend it wasn't fair to send twelve years old to face seventeen years old in the arena. The next day I was brought in for questioning." she droned on. "I played dumb, they put it on a sentimental whim on my part, but I was on their list and I was good-looking. They made me an escort, simple as that. They don't care about what you think or what you want, they want you to play the part so you play the part or you endure the consequences. I have parents, I have a sister." Her voice turned pleading. "I thought you would understand, I thought we could be friends. I tried _so hard_ to be your friend, Haymitch…"

His hands hovered in the air for a few seconds before he found the strength to place them on her shoulder. "I…" He was sorry but sorry wouldn't cut it. "I had no idea."

"I know." She wiped the tears off her cheeks. "No one does. And when you do, you can't say anything because you don't know who is in the same position you are. Victors hate on escorts but, really… I know more than one who is in the Games because of something they said or because of the way they look. Not all of them chose to be here. If you think I love taking care of children just to see them die two weeks later, you're wrong."

"They're going to punish you for what I did today." A wave of disgust rose in his chest, he felt her small quivers under his hands. She was afraid. "I will talk to someone. I will tell them you did your best to stop me." It wouldn't do any good, he knew that. "I won't let them hurt your family." He hated being back in that position. Not having loved ones was a relief most days because it meant he didn't have to fear for them and now… Now the assurance that no one would be hurt because of him had disappeared. Effie would be hurt. And he had never wished to see her hurt. "What do you think they will do? What have they done up until now?" Because let's face it, he had done plenty to annoy the Capitol in his years as a victor and Effie had been with him for some time now.

She shook his head. "It's the first time you've done something that bad, just a warning hopefully. It will be alright." She hugged herself. "It will be. Don't do that again, _please_."

"If you had told me that before…" He knew it wasn't really fair but he wouldn't have endangered anyone with his antics if he had known.

"I couldn't." She was still quivering so he ran his hands up and down her arms in a desperate attempt at comfort. "I shouldn't even tell you that now. Trust no one, I never quite learned that."

"I'm on your side." he said, because it sounded important somehow, and then he winced. "What else should I do? Or not do."

She turned around to face him and his hands fell back to his side. "I'm not asking you to stop drinking. We're ridiculous, they laugh at us, that's good."

"Because that makes us unthreatening." he deduced.

She nodded. "So don't go screaming your hate for us, Capitols, and it should be alright."

She looked so frail, he wanted to comfort her but didn't know how. He cupped her cheeks in his hands carefully, trying to wipe the smudges of make-up her tears had left with his thumb. "I don't hate _you_. I've never hated you." He gave up on the make-up because he was just making it worse, but he didn't let go of her face at once because it was like seeing a new Effie and he thought he could understand that one better. She was the same but different. "I can't hate someone who looks like a clown." he smirked.

She took the joke for what it was and smiled a little but it didn't reach her eyes. "I hate that." she confessed. "The outfits are so tight I can't breathe or sit or do anything most of the time, the wigs make me feel like my head is slowly roasting, don't get me started on the nails because they look like claws and I'm always worried I will stab myself with them and this…" she waved at her face "…itches _all_ _the_ _time_. I don't understand why people would do that willingly."

He lifted his eyebrows in surprise. Effie being forced to be an escort was one thing but Effie not liking her… _Effiness_ appearance was something else altogether. He wondered what she looked like under all that crap. "Take it off." Did he imagine her blush? It was hard to tell with all that white powder caking her face.

"You are aware of course that asking that of a lady is highly improper?" she asked.

"Do you actually care about propriety?" He didn't know what was true and what was an act anymore.

"To a certain length." she replied honestly, but she was already taking pins out.

He didn't know what he was expecting when she removed the wig but he wasn't disappointed by the mass of strawberry blond curls that fell on her shoulders. He couldn't help but capture a strand and roll it between his fingers, amazed at how soft it was. Her wigs were always so stiff with hairspray… She tousled her hair, obviously relieved to be rid of the awful purple wig. It was a crime to hide those curls under that monstrosity. He couldn't help but run his fingers through the curling strands "Liking my real hair, I see." she teased, touching his wrist softly.

"Take the make-up off." It was weird how he had always considered Effie like a sort of kinder Capitol citizen until then but had never thought of her as a _human_ _being_. She was sort of surreal to him. Just Effie. She existed in correlation with the Games and that was it. She wasn't… _real_. Obviously, he had noticed she was an attractive woman but it was hard for him to see the appeal of someone who looked like a baked cake except at that precise moment in time… Her hair made it hard to focus on something else but that slightly ridiculous realization that she was indeed _human_. She was a pawn just like he was a pawn. She was a prisoner just like he was a prisoner. And it changed everything. "I want to see you."

She lead him to her bathroom. It took fifteen minutes and at least five different items to remove the make-up. He spent them sitting on the edge of her bathtub, watching her work diligently. When she was done, her skin was reddish from all the scrubbing and she looked a little self-conscious as she turned to face him but she met his eyes all the same, proud and defiant.

She had said she was good-looking but good-looking wasn't cutting it. She was beautiful. Her eyes were so blue… He had never noticed how blue because of the make-up around them and of those fake eyelashes. Why would they cover a face so beautiful with various paints?

"Are you already regretting the make-up?" she said, probably because he had been silent for too long.

"You're stunning." His voice was rough and deeper than usual. She blushed and ducked her head before looking back at the mirror above the sink.

"Do you ever forget who you are?" she asked, wistfully staring at her reflection. "Sometimes, I don't know anymore."

He stood up slowly and stood behind her, to see her face in the mirror. "I think… I think you're a survivor." That was the highest compliment he could make, really, and she seemed to understand because she smiled and it reached her eyes this time.

"I don't remember how long it's been since someone saw me looking like that, like _myself_." She was talking to his reflection but she turned her head slightly to look at him next. "Would you unzip the dress, please?"

His fingers were itching to touch but he stayed still. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Not particularly." She was back to talking to his reflection in the mirror, she reached behind her for his hand and placed it on her waist. "But no one has ever looked at _me_ like you're doing right now. Men usually like me better with the wig and the make-up."

"Well, that prove my point about Capitol people being stupid, then, princess." He took a step closer, feeling a little like a moth hovering over a flame, he knew he was going to crash and burn but he also knew there was no escaping that fate. The hand on her waist dug a little at her flesh when he gathered her hair in his other hand to swipe it over her shoulder. He pressed a kiss on the back of her neck almost reverently.

The quiver was a good kind of quiver this time and he smiled against her skin, letting his mouth trail down her neck to the small zip hidden behind the fabric of her dress.

"You can't call me princess." She was out of breath and it only made him smile wider. "I don't look the part anymore." His hand moved to her stomach and he kissed the juncture between her neck and her shoulder, before nibbling on it softly. She moaned and pressed back against him, tilting her head to give him better access, and it was hard for him not to tear the dress off her right then.

"You never looked more the part as far as I'm concerned." he mumbled against her neck. She turned around in his arms and pulled at his shirt. Their lips crashed against each other and for a few minutes he forgot breathing was a necessary thing. "I hate what they do to you." he said between two kiss. "I hate what they do to all of us."

His fingers were struggling with the zipper but hers did a quick job of his shirt's buttons. "Things will change. One day." She got rid of the shirt and his hands stilled on her back. He wasn't self-conscious about his scars but when she retraced the one on his stomach with the tip of her fingers, he couldn't help the shiver that ran through his body. "It has to." she vowed before kissing the other scar on his shoulder. "No more pain. No more Games."

"That's… highly optimistic." He kissed her but that kiss was slower, less hungry, more… _gentle_. "I hope you're right." He finally managed to tug the zipper down. "I really do."

"Hope is all we have." she whispers breathlessly in his ear, a few minutes later, after he had managed to get rid of the dress that clang to her body like a second skin. "It's all we have…"

"Not true." he denied, leaning back to look at her in the eyes because he wanted her to know how serious he was despite how cheesy it was going to sound. "We have each other, now."


	26. Stay Safe, Sweetheart

Original prompt : I will ask for one where Effie is dating Seneca a year before and during the 74th Hunger Games and shes the one that sells him the tragic lovers of District 12 and because he loves her he does his best to keep them alive, then Snow finds out about this and sends a present to Effie as a warning for what she did, he sends a box to her house with pictures of Seneca hanging, Haymitch is not there to help her, but Cinna and Portia calls him after Effie is having panic attacks and he goes to the capitol to find a very frightened Effie

_I tricked it a bit because I don't think Haymitch could have gone to the Capitol before MJ. _

_**Stay Safe, Sweetheart**_

The phone startled her so badly she nearly fell off the couch. The box with the awful pictures was still on the coffee table, where she had put it after forbidding Cinna and Portia to throw it in the trash. She knew they were right when they suggested it, that it was the only thing to do. She didn't want to remember Seneca hanging from a rope in his apartment but the image was already seared unto her brain and there was nothing to show for it now but the quiet knowledge she had killed him. She had convinced him to sell the star-crossed lovers story to the public and that had resulted in his death. The white rose laying on top of the box attested to that. The box itself attested to that.

She got up slowly to answer the phone, hoping it would stop ringing before she got there but it didn't.

"Hello?" She tried and failed to sound as cheerful as usual.

"_Sweetheart_"

She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. She didn't want to talk to him. She didn't want to think about him when things were so complicated between them and her boyfriend was dead but she couldn't just hang up either. "You don't have a phone."

"_I'm at Peeta's." _Haymitch explained. _"Sent him to Katniss' for a while. I was at her place when Cinna called, he said you seemed a little… stressed out. How are you holding up?"_

How was she holding up? Badly. Very, very badly. But she couldn't actually tell him that, now, could she? Not on the phone at any rate. Phones weren't safe. "How are the children?" she asked instead.

"_Good. As in love as ever. Katniss is her usual charming self and Peeta is his usual musing self, all in order."_ He sounded irritated. _"How are _you_?"_

She shrugged, forgetting for a moment that he couldn't actually see her and she needed to give a verbal answer. "Very busy. I have a Victory Tour to plan. That's a lot of work."

There was a pause on the other hand of the phone and she went to sit back on the couch, her eyes on the box. She didn't think she could ever take her eyes off it. She was absolutely panicked when she had called Portia but in retrospect that hadn't been a good idea. Portia had brought Cinna and, of course Cinna must have found a way to warn Haymitch.

"_I wish I could be there to help you with that, sweetheart."_ The words were carefully chosen and she knew he wasn't talking about the Victory Tour.

"You would only make things more complicated. You always do." It was bitter and probably a tad unfair but the star-crossed lovers had been _his_ idea after all and he wasn't the one who had to pay the price.

"_I'm sorry." _He sighed tiredly. _"I really am. I didn't expect Victory Tour to be so… taxing on you."_

"You should have thought twice about it." she snapped before she could help herself. "I'm sorry, I'm..."

"_Exhausted."_ he cut in _"Cinna mentioned it. He also said you received a present from an anonymous admirer." _

She eyed the rose, a wave of hatred and disgust swirled inside her. "Not so anonymous."

"_You should throw it." _Haymitch's voice softened. _"Don't look at it anymore. Throw it."_

"I… can't." The sob took her by surprise but she pulled herself together quickly. Not on the phone. Phones were dangerous.

"_I'm here. I'm with you. Throw the box, Effie."_ he demanded, gentle and firm at the same time. _"I'm with you."_

But he wasn't really. And it wasn't him she wanted anyway. For once, it wasn't him she wanted. She had spent months trying to convince herself to fall in love with Seneca and to forget what she thought she was feeling for Haymitch. Seneca was a good man, a kind man, he was funny and he loved her dearly but still she had kept dreaming about strong arms and stubble that itched when they kissed… What she had with Haymitch was nothing more than comfort and could never be anything else, no matter how she wished things were different. What she had shared with Seneca had been real, promising… And now… Now…

"_Sweetheart, please." _She took a deep breath and picked up the box wedging the phone between her ear and her shoulder. She could hear his heavy breathing on the other side, she could picture it clearly in her mind : him, sitting on a chair in Peeta's probably immaculate kitchen, a bottle of liquor dangling from his hand. _"Is it done?"_

She took the box out in the corridor and threw it in the garbage chute. It was gone before she could even blink. "Yes." she said softly. She went back in, leaned against her closed front door and slid to the ground. "I need to hang up now." Because she was going to start crying again, she could feel the tears building behind her eyes.

"_If I could come to the Capitol, I would…"_ Haymitch's words were rushed, as if he was afraid she would drop the phone before he was finished. _"To help. With Victory Tour, I mean."_

Nobody would ever believe that. Why did they even bother? If they were listening… She doubted they were convincing anyone. "I miss you."

"_Effie."_ It was a warning and a plea all rolled into one.

"I know." She breathed out. "I know. I'm just… scared. Because of Victory Tour and all that goes with it. A lot is expected of me, a lot of… I'm afraid I can't do it."

"_You will do it."_ he growled. _"Everything will turn out just fine. Cinna will help you plan everything if it becomes too much. Go to him if you need anything." _But Cinna wouldn't hold her like Haymitch would and how horrible was she to crave the embrace of another man when Seneca was dead? _"Peeta's back, he says hi. I have to go now, sweetheart."_

She wanted to beg him not to leave her. She wanted to beg him to come and save her from the men who were lurking in front of her building in their black car, watching her day and night. She wanted to beg him to protect her from President Snow and his evocative presents. She wanted to beg him to take away that heavy guilt which made it impossible to breathe… "Alright. Send my love to the children."

"_I will."_ He was distant, now, because of Peeta probably. _"Stay safe."_ In his mouth, the salutation took another meaning. It was almost a warning and she could hear what he didn't actually say: _stay alive_.

"You too." She hung up after that and started sobbing again. It seemed it was all she was doing those days. There was no light at the end of the tunnel she was in, no hope.


	27. Effie Trinket, Rebel

original prompt : It's AU-ish, I hope you don't mind :) What if Effie was a member of the rebellion since the beginnings but without Haymitch's knowledge? I wonder if you could write something about the time when Haymitch was about to leave with Havensbee with the hoovercraft to pick up Katniss from the Arena during CF and Effie just appears and Haymitch is just stunned?

_**Effie Trinket, Rebel**_

"How long before we reach them?" Haymitch asked, studying the 3-D map of the arena floating in front of them, in the main room of the hovercraft.

"Three hours after we take off." Plutarch answered distractively, he was buried under three heavy folders full of papers his assistant had brought him. "Which should be in a few minutes. We're just waiting for our last operative."

"You could say spy." he rolled his eyes. "I don't know why you always insist on complicating everything in the Capitol."

The clicking of high heels on steel floor should really have warned him but, after all, Fluvia did love her heels too, so he didn't lift his head and continued to observe the map, worrying all the while that Katniss was going to do something to jeopardize the plan.

"Because 'spy' is just childish, Haymitch."

He looked up so fast something snap in his neck. "What are you doing here?" he asked, taking in the golden wig, the bright dress and the heavy make-up. He turned to Plutarch with a frown. "I told you to make sure she would be retrieved not to bring her to a hovercraft that may potentially be taken down at some point in the next hours." Plutarch was sporting an amused grin which really only served to irritate him further. "I told you I wanted her safe." He glanced at Effie. "For Katniss and Peeta's sake. Don't flatter yourself into thinking I care."

"Oh, I wouldn't dare." she smiled at him and it was then that he realized something was wrong. She didn't seem confused or upset or even frightened, all of which she really should have been considering she had just been abducted by rebels.

"I will go tell the pilots we're ready, shall I?" Plutarch said, dropping the folder he was consulting on the table.

"And your operative?" he asked, his frown deepening.

"I don't think introductions are necessary. Do try to play nicely together, children, I will be a few minutes." Plutarch joked. Haymitch was too stunned to do anything but gape slightly. Effie? A spy? Impossible. Utterly impossible. She was… not spy material. She was loud and bright and… Plutarch paused on the doorstep and glanced back one last time, probably taking in the growing awkwardness in the room. "Effie, Haymitch asked me specifically to make sure you would be retrieved before anything could happen to you. As for you, Haymitch… It was Effie who recommended the rebels to approach you. Now, remember the walls are thin and we're in the middle of a rescue mission. Don't shout _too_ _loud_."

He closed the door behind him and Haymitch found himself alone with a woman he clearly didn't know.

"Don't be mad." Effie begged, when he stayed silent for too long.

"Mad?" He chuckled darkly. "Why would I be mad?"

"I couldn't tell you, Haymitch." she sighed.

"I thought we were friends." He knew it was unfair. "But all this time you were feeding facts about me to Thirteen?"

She closed her eyes briefly. "You, the other victors, the Gamemakers… Everything useful. I was gathering intel. I won't apologize for that." She stared at him with an intensity she usually reserved to the really bad nights when he was so drunk he didn't think there was anything wrong in spilling his guts in front of her. The things he had told her… She had took care of him, she had helped him time and time again. He had told her secrets he had never told anyone else. Drunken confessions about his family, the disgust he felt about himself… "I didn't betray your confidences." she added, as if she could read his mind. "I told them what they needed to know, nothing else."

He shook his head and rubbed at his eyes, he felt so, _so_ _tired_. Was there anything true in this world anymore? He thought he knew her, he thought… "How long? How long have you been lying to me?"

She moved as if to step closer but he raised his hand to stop her. He didn't want her closer. "I didn't lie exactly, you never asked me." she corrected him softly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, was I suppose to ask if your repeated declarations of love for the Capitol were all for the show?" He raised his voice slightly before remembering Plutarch's warning and sneering cruelly. "I will give you that, sweetheart, you're a good actress. Makes me wonder what else you were pretending to love."

She seemed hurt. She turned her head away from him like he had slapped her. He hated that, hurting her. He didn't take any enjoyment from it and he was sure she didn't either, yet, it seemed they were always doing that anyway. "My father was a liberal and he was a little too vocal in his disapprobation of the way Districts were dealt with. He disappeared. I was part of the rebellion before I became an escort." She folded her arms, still not meeting his eyes. "I'm not apologizing for that either."

"I don't want your _fucking_ apologies." he shouted.

"_Language_, Haymitch. No need to be vulgar." she snapped. "And I am _not_ apologizing."

"Good because I don't want it." he scoffed. "And stop with that crap or are you telling me you're really an uptight bitch about manners? What's true and what's false with you? I can't even tell anymore."

"Proper behavior has never hurt anyone and it certainly won't hurt you." She drummed her fingers on her arm impatiently. "Why are you so angry? I would have thought you would be glad to know I'm not like them. I thought…" That sentence remained unfinished and it was probably for the best.

He didn't know _why_ he was angry. He wasn't even angry exactly, he was… surprised, stunned, taken aback and every variation you could make on that idea. And maybe, yes, maybe it stung a little that she would be part of the rebellion and… "I trusted you."

"Not enough to tell me about your plan." she commented. "Not enough to tell me you were about to rescue Peeta and Katniss. You're mad at me but you did _exactly_ the same thing I did."

"I was _protecting_ you!" he growled. "The less you knew, the safer you were."

"Well, the same goes for you, you dimwit!" she shouted back, finally losing her calm demeanor. "If they had finally realized there was someone in the inside what do you think they would have done? If they had suspected you knew _anything_ about it, being a victor wouldn't have protected you! You were better off not-knowing."

"Yeah, because that way I couldn't betray you." He stepped closer, pointing an accusing finger at her. "Truth is, you didn't trust me and you're too much of a hypocrite to admit it! Truth is, you may be a rebel but you're fake from start to finish. Truth is, sweetheart…" He stepped too close, she saw an opportunity and she took it. He wasn't expecting the slap that left his cheek stinging but, really, what did he know about her anymore? Raising a hand on a former victor, however, wasn't a good idea. The room wasn't big, it didn't take that much to pin her to the closest wall, his hands digging into her waist. "Feel better? How long have you wanted to do that?" he mocked. He didn't mind the slap, the problem was everything else.

"A while." She lifted an eyebrow. "How long have you wanted to pin me to a wall?"

His breathing was quick and hard because of anger and a lot of other things he didn't want to dwell upon. "A while." Her lips twitched into a smile and he couldn't look away.

"I trust you." she swore, all trace of levity gone from her voice. "I wasn't afraid you would betray me, I was afraid you wouldn't. I was afraid of what would happen to you if you didn't. Also, I wasn't allowed to tell you, I requested it but Plutarch talked me out of it and he was right. It was dangerous for every party involved." Her fingers brushed against his cheek. "I trust you."

He clenched her waist at her touch, stupid reflex. He searched her eyes for a lie, or a misconstruction of the truth at least, but he found nothing there except earnestness and a bit of sadness. "How can you be a spy when you're such an open book?" It couldn't be fake. The tremors in her hands each time they lost a tribute, the worry on her face when he drank too much, the sparks between them each time they brushed against each other… He could always tell when she was annoyed or angry or sad… He _knew_ her. And if all this was a lie…

"You see through me." She bit her lower lip, careful not to avert her eyes. If he knew her, she knew him too and she was aware he would take that for an attempt at hiding something. "From the very beginning, you've seen through me. Do you remember the first thing you told me?" He remembered he had drunk far too much and the sun was reflecting far too brightly on her white wig. He remembered she had been eager to meet him, all cheerful smile and high-pitched voice. What had passed between them, however… "You told me I wasn't cut to be an escort, that I would hate myself before three days. And then, after we lost our first tributes together, you said I wasn't your usual Capitol girl."

"You cried, Trinket." He rolled his eyes. "No escort ever cries. No Capitol citizen ever cries over a tribute."

She tilted her head a little. "I waited and waited for you to understand, you know."

He would never have, it could have gone on forever and he would never have had any idea. Effie Trinket, rebel, was too much of a stretch. He could barely grasp it now that she was standing in front of him, claiming she was a spy.

"I never really lied to you." she said softly, her hands coming to rest on his arms. "Not on the important things. You hid things from me, I hid things from you. Let's call it even. I don't want to lose you, I don't want to lose your trust. Not now that…"

"What?" he prompted, leaning closer, her fingers gripped his forearms that tad tighter, a few inches closer, that was all he had to breach to kiss her.

"I don't have a façade to keep anymore." she whispered. "I don't have to pretend being a happy little Capitol escort. I can do whatever I want with whoever I want." She closed her eyes, her voice lowering down to a breathless murmur. "And I very much want you."

Those words in her mouth, in her voice, shot directly to his groin. She didn't really give him time to ponder them, though, she leaned in slowly giving him an opportunity to retreat. As if he would ever retreat from her. She brushed her lips against his and he was lost. He put his hand behind her neck and he closed his mouth on hers, his whole weight was pinning her to the wall but still she gripped his shirt to pull him closer until there was no space left whatsoever between them. There was nothing slow, tender or even loving about that kiss. It was lustful, hungry, and a fight for control. She locked a leg behind his calf and he tumbled forward, she used the momentum to turn them so he was the one trapped between her and the wall. He didn't stop kissing her, his hands didn't stop wandering, but hers were on his belt and…

"I haven't heard a shout for some time, have you…" Plutarch's voice barely registered in his fuzzy brain. "_Really_?" Effie shot away from him and stared at their friend before lowering her eyes, guilt written all over her face. Haymitch couldn't help his snicker but Plutarch didn't look amused. "When I told you to play nice that wasn't what I had in mind, Haymitch."

"She's the one who was all over me, how come I'm the one being blamed?"

The glare she sent his way was priceless. He winked at her and her lips twitched in amusement which prompted him to smirk and then her mouth stretched into a low sexy smile and…

"Focus, people!" Plutarch exclaimed, rolling his eyes. "We are on a rescue mission, in case you have forgotten."

"Right." Haymitch cleared his throat.

"We apologize." she said. "That won't happen again."

"Oh, it will happen again." Haymitch smirked, avoiding her when she tried to whack his arm. "You can count on that."


	28. My Funny Valentine

Original Prompt : Hi can you carry on the one shot connection about the dancing? It was so good xxx

_I called it 'My Funny valentine' because that was the song I had in mind. ^^ Also Connection is Chapter 14. _

**_My Funny Valentine_**

Effie was about to follow Portia out the living-room cart when the familiar notes stopped her. She turned toward Haymitch who was standing innocently beside the gramophone, with an outstretched hand and a smile on his lips.

"One last dance, Princess?" he suggested.

There really was no refusing that smile because Haymitch often smirked or sneered or even occasionally grinned but his smiles were few and special. Doubly so when he smiled at her. "It's always one more thing or another with you." she sighed, but she took his hand and let him pul her into his embrace. His arms naturally wrapped around her waist and hers circled his neck, their face were so close she could feel his breath rolling on her lips. "One last glass of wine, one last bottle, one last dance, one last kiss…" she teased.

Haymitch's eyes were twinkling with amusement but his words were laced with seriousness. "I don't like the idea of last times, that's all." He pressed a light kiss to the side of her neck, his lips barely grazed her skin. It frustrated her. "All the more so when you're concerned. If it were up to me I would never stop kissing you."

"I thought we were dancing?" Her fingers brushed the hair at the base of his neck tugging a little on the strands.

"In my memories, one doesn't exclude the other." He started swaying them slowly to the music, one of his hands wandering lower than propriety allowed but they were alone so she didn't rebuke him like she usually would. "How come you have a record of that song?"

"I love that song." she said, leaning her head against his shoulder. It reminded her of the last time they had danced, a few Games ago. She had nagged him and nagged him because he had promised her a dance at a victory party but had never actually danced with her, too busy drinking with Chaff and the others, so when they had finally come back to the penthouse, he had been so fed up with her that he had turned the radio on, had taken her hand and had forced her to dance. She had struggled to get free, they had bickered and then she had yielded. She hadn't known the song at the time but it was slow and bittersweet and the tension between them had shifted from hostility to something else. "I'm surprised you remember it, though."

He bowed his head, his mouth brushed softly against her throat. "There is nothing about that night I could ever forget." His lips trailed up to _that_ spot just under her jaw. "I remember dancing." He kissed her skin. "I remember kissing you right here." His hand went up her back and cupped her nape briefly before sliding under the base of the golden wig.

"Careful with that." she chided him quietly.

"I remember tearing that ugly thing off your head." he continued, but he removed it with more care than he usually showed, throwing it on the couch. He slowly removed all the pins keeping her hair in a tight bun before tousling it a little. "I remember being mesmerized by your red hair."

"It's not red, it's strawberry blonde." she cut in. "As I've told you countless times before."

"It's reddish blonde and you're ruining the mood." he scolded her. She rolled her eyes but kissed him hard on the mouth which made him fall silent as it always did. "I was working my way up to that." he smirked, brushing the hair off her shoulder to kiss her neck again. "Now, where was I?"

"Telling me everything about your little obsession for my hair." she grinned, undoing the first three buttons of his shirt, to stroke the skin there. "And more generally trying to convince me to let you in my bed tonight, I think."

His smirk deepened. "Is it working?"

"I'm not sure." she mused, letting her nails trail on his chest. "I was promised dancing but there seems to be a lot of talking and not much of that."

"Ah, yeah… Dancing…" He took hold of the hand roaming on his chest, raised it into the air and made her twirl. It was ridiculous really and she couldn't help her giggling. "What is it you said earlier about connection?" he asked, when she put her arms back around his neck. "Do you think I'm the right partner for you, sweetheart?"

His eyes were uncharacteristically inquisitive. "I don't think we're ever going to win a dance competition if that's what you're asking." She smiled a little, kissing him softly. "Mainly because each time I'm back in your arms your forget to dance."

"That's your fault, you're distracting." he rebuked her, nuzzling her neck again. His left hand was on her lower back and steadily getting lower by the second.

"You're easily distracted." she pointed out before closing her eyes to enjoy the feeling of his arms holding her close. She rested her head in the crook of his neck and sighed in bliss.

"True." They swayed slowly for a while longer, the song was about to end now and she was already regretting that it couldn't last some more. That kind of moment between them were few and far between, there never seemed to be enough time for them to enjoy a dance or simple things like that. "You never answered my question, princess." he whispered in her ear. She only hummed in reply, his thumb was drawing soothing circles on her back and she was easily distracted too. "All your talk about loving and caring for your partner… Do you think I'm the right partner for you?"

She frowned against his neck. "Are you asking me if I have feelings for you?"

His chest rumbled when he chuckled, she knew because her hand was there and she could feel the reverberations under her palm. "I know you have feelings for me." He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "You're usually _very_ vocal in your feelings for me."

"Then what?" she asked, puzzled. She chose to ignore the teasing, she might have been, once or twice, a bit vocal, true, but he wasn't that much better. She lifted her head to look at him just as the song ended. Another began to play but it wasn't the right tempo, so they stopped swaying yet they didn't let go of each other. "I don't understand."

"Just curious." Haymitch shrugged, faking disinterest. "Having feelings doesn't mean… one is one's right partner." He was embarrassed.

"Haymitch, are you blushing?" She touched his slightly flushed cheek, it was warmer than usual.

"Don't be ridiculous." he scoffed. "I don't blush."

"Oh, but _you are_!" she grinned. He rolled his eyes and she felt a little bad but it was too good to pass, really. "You are blushing."

"Are you done?" The scowl on his face only made her smile wider, for the amount of teasing he did every day… He was a big baby, she thought fondly.

"You're my partner." she said, finally answering his question. "The only one I want and the only one I need."

He didn't seem satisfied, though. "So, you _do_ actually… you know." He winced. "Love and care and all that crap."

"All that crap?" she asked, drumming her fingers on his chest as a warning. "Why don't you ask what you want to know instead of being so cryptic?"

His sigh was deep and a tad nervous, but when she looked at him, his grey eyes were resolute. "You have feelings for me, you care for me, but do you…" The words weren't coming out but Effie understood suddenly what he was trying to say.

"Oh." she blurted in comprehension. He wanted to know if she _loved_ him. "Is it going to spook you away if I say yes? Because I know you, Haymitch, you're…"

He cut her off with a kiss; a slow, tantalizing kiss that left her breathless. "Don't say it. Don't." He kissed her again. "I want you." He was done playing around, she could tell. He was already unfastening her dress and she had to clasps his face into her hands to stop him from kissing his way to her breasts.

"Bedroom." she reminded him. They had been reckless enough for that night, dancing and fooling around as if nobody could walk in on them.

"One day" he growled when she stepped away from him to fix her clothing and gather her belongings. "we will have a house and we won't ever concern ourselves with where we have sex."

"We?" she teased, opening the door.

His only answer was a wink.


	29. Fashion Requires Sacrifices

Original Prompt : Can you do one where Effie goes on a diet and Haymitch tells her she's beautiful the way she is Please, please, please :D

_**Fashion Requires Sacrifice**_

"No, thank you." Effie refused the chocolate box with her usual polite smile. Haymitch thought nothing of it until she passed on dessert too during dinner – if you could call dinner the salad and the three green peas she ate. He waited until the kids had gone to bed and Cinna and Portia had left to discuss the matter though, knowing she was less likely to answer with an audience.

"You're alright, there, sweetheart?" he asked, when she pulled out another list of sponsors for them to review. He watched her from the liquor cart, taking in the small frown that seemed perpetually glued to her face since the Quarter Quell Reaping and nervous gestures. She looked up at him, from the couch she was sitting on, with obvious confusion. "You barely ate anything."

Her mouth opened in a silent "oh", obviously, she was surprised he had noticed as much. "I'm perfectly alright, thank you." She smiled sheepishly. "I'm actually on a diet. I know it seems silly with everything else going on but..."

Diet? He rolled his eyes and finally turned his attention to the liquor cart. "Seems silly to me with or without anything else going on. What are you dieting for?" He was careful with the amount of whiskey he poured into the glass : enough to soothe the anxiety, not enough to get drunk, that was the deal he had made with the kids.

"Well..." Her cheeks were a little flushed. "I've gained a few pounds."

"Yeah?" he snorted "Where?"

He studied her features more closely but couldn't, for the life of him, find anything unappealing in her body. Legs that went on forever, an ass to damn a saint, just the right amount of breasts and her face... Well her face would probably be better without the white powder and bright colors she insisted on plastering on it, but her eyes were so blue he had troubles escaping their scrutiny sometimes.

"On the hips, if you must know." She sighed. "Although, for future reference, that is not something you should ask a lady."

The dress might have been a little tighter around her waist, it was hard to tell when she was sitting down. Her clothes always seemed ready to burst anyway. "There are children starving out there and you're here, negating yourself the right to eat what you want because... Because, what? You couldn't fit in one dress or two?"

"Because Cinna had to adjust four of them since Victory Tour." she snapped. "Those dresses are unforgiving, fashion requires sacrifice."

"Screw fashion." He sipped his whiskey slowly, watching her pretending to read through the list of sponsors when he knew she was just fishing for an excuse not to look at him. "You don't need to lose weight, you have no weight to lose. You should eat more."

She stared at him like he was crazy. "But... Don't you think I look fat? The dress pinches at my waist, everyone can see it!" She stood up to prove her point but he didn't really see the difference. "Here, see?" She twirled slowly and if it was supposed to convince him to look at her – _flat_ – stomach, she was mistaken, he couldn't care less about her hips, there were other things to look at. He enjoyed the show though. Those dresses were _tight_.

"Sweetheart, no one is ever going to look at your waist, you can stop starving yourself." It was hard to put down the glass and walk away from the cart, harder still not to take the bottle with him. In a way, he was grateful for Effie and her quirks, it distracted him. "As for you being fat, that's a stretch." He went to slump on the couch and she sat back down, immediately handing him list after list.

"I'm just trying to look my best." she said "I'm not as young as I used to be."

She wasn't old either. "You're beautiful. That won't change because you gain or lose a few pounds so you can stop being ridiculous and starving yourself." He tilted his head to better watch her. "How can you _not_ know how good you look?"

"Careful, Haymitch." she joked, but her smile was pleased. "You're paying me a compliment."

"That's no compliment, that's the truth." He shrugged "Take it the way you want."

She stared at him for a few seconds and then cleared her throat, nodding to the forgotten paper in his hand. "Sponsors?" she reminded him.

They went to work and the subject was dropped but Haymitch was pleased to see, just before they separated for the night, she had found that chocolate box again.


	30. Too Late

Prompt: Haymitch gets jealous (74th games where Effie is with Seneca?) thank you if you write this up!:)

_**Too Late**_

Effie wasn't hard to find in the sponsors lounge. Unlike the past years where she usually was desperately trying to get someone's attention, she was now in the middle of a cluster of sponsors who all wanted to bet for the girl on fire. Haymitch wondered if she liked it better that way : being courted instead of being the one doing the courting. It got worse once people saw him, though, because they all wanted to talk to him, to congratulate him for having a worthy tribute at last, to offer Twelve their money… He wasn't used to that kind of attention. Sponsors, he knew, were to be approached like a difficult mistress, yield too soon and she would get bored with you, wait too long and she would be gone. Katniss was safe enough for now, striking deals with the girl from Eleven. Peeta, that was another matter entirely, but no one had offered to pitch in for the boy yet.

It took him several minutes to extract both Effie and him from the crowd and drag her to an isolated corner of the room.

"I need you to find me a way to Crane." he said, as soon as he was sure they wouldn't be overheard.

Effie was too used to his quirks to let anything show on her face but he caught the flash of fear in her eyes. Odd. What could she be afraid of?

"If this is a joke…" she sighed, but he waved the rest of her sentence away.

"Katniss isn't likeable enough." he whispered. "The tables are going to turn on her. We need to push the love story forward a notch. I need to speak to Crane."

She glanced around them to make sure nobody was paying attention to them. They weren't the only mentors and escorts discussing in that fashion in the room but that year was special. That year, they might win and everyone knew it.

"We need to find sponsors for Peeta." she disagreed. "He needs medicine, and…"

"Peeta won't make it out." It sounded harsh and cold but that was the truth and she must know it as she did because she avoided his eyes. "It's Katniss we need to focus on. If we can help the boy along the way, good, but if I have to bet on one of them…"

"You like her, I know. I've noticed." She let out another sigh. "But you won't be able to see any Gamemaker. Neither mentors nor escorts are allowed to…"

"I didn't come to you to hear you recite the guidebook, sweetheart." he growled. "Can you find out where Crane is or not? Leave the rest up to me."

She seemed to waver and then checked another time that no one was spying on them before leaning in a little. Her voice was so low he had to really focus to hear her. "There is a staircase behind the Gamemakers room. He will be there at eight, tonight, but you can't tell anyone."

He frowned, taken aback. He had expected a lot more ferreting and sneaking around before finally finding out how to approach the man. "How do you know that?" Why was she aware of Seneca Crane's whereabouts before he had even asked her about it?

She looked distinctly uncomfortable. "We are seeing each other. You _don't_ tell this to anyone, Haymitch."

"You're sleeping with the Head Gamemaker." Saying he was stunned was a complete understatement. She had never said she was dating anyone, least of all…

"Haymitch!" she whispered furiously before whacking his arm. Her cheeks were flushed. "That's hardly proper."

"_You're_ _sleeping_ _with_ _Crane_." he answered, in the same tone. "Are you mad?"

She seemed ready to throttle him. "Since when do my private business concern you?"

"Since…" _Always_. "Never mind that. Why are you sleeping with that man? Because if you're doing that in hope he's going to favor Twelve…"

She whacked his arm again, a lot more violently. "I don't like the things you are implying." she warned him. "Seneca is a good man and everything I do isn't related to my job."

"Well, you do him and he's clearly related to your job." he scowled.

She glared daggers at him. "You're walking on thin ice, here, Haymitch."

"Yes?" he said, not bothering to keep his voice low anymore. "And what are you going to do about it, sweetheart? Complain to your _boyfriend_?"

Some people shot them curious glance and Effie winced. "Are you trying to get me fired? I could lose my job over this."

"Then why are you sleeping with him?" He couldn't understand how she had ended up with someone like that. Crane was arrogant, vain and, in Haymitch's perfectly valid opinion, ugly. Seriously had she seen his beard? "Are _you_ trying to get fired?" Not that he could blame her for that… If he could get fired, he would take his chance.

"What I do and with whom is _none_ of your concern, Haymitch." she hissed.

"It is _very_ _much_ my concern!" he roared, forgetting for a second that they were trying to be discreet.

Every eyes in the room turned to them and Effie looked as if she had just eaten a sour lemon. "I am not doing this with you." She turned around and marched out of the sponsors lounge which only served to anger him more. He couldn't pinpoint exactly _why_ he was angry but he _was_. He stomped after her, not even slowing down when Chaff tried to stop him with a "trouble in paradise?", he caught up with her at the elevator. He flung himself in the cabin just as the doors were sliding shut.

"How long has this been going on?"

She purposely kept her back to him. "I don't see why you care so much."

"Yeah, well, I don't know either!" he shouted.

She turned to face him, then. She folded her arms and stared at him with a stern face. "And don't you think perhaps that is precisely the problem?"

"What?" What could she mean?

"You're like a child who wants a toy only because someone else is playing with it." she snapped. "And I am tired of being treated like that."

"I _don't_ want you." He sounded petulant and every bit the child she was accusing him to be.

"Then, I don't know why we're having this discussion." The elevator chimed and she pressed the button that would take him to the Gamemakers level, stepping out before he could say anything else. There was only one thing swirling in his head : _too late_, and it made him want to punch the wall.


	31. The Penthouse Entertainment

hayffie prompt if you're still taking them!: i kinda love the idea of this finnick and effie friendship you've presented. maybe something about that, finnick teasing haymitch a little by flirting with effie? i just think it's really amusing/cute when haymitch's friends see more of his feelings towards her bc he's trying to hide them.

_**The Penthouse Entertainment**_

Finnick didn't know why, exactly, they always seemed to end up in the penthouse. Probably because Haymitch had no other mentors living with him whereas Chaff and he did. The penthouse was quiet and as private a place as you could find in the Capitol. Plus, according to Chaff, Twelve had the best stocked liquor cart.

"How much longer, do you think?" Chaff asked, nursing a glass of whiskey.

"Depends. If the two from Six team up to take down the Careers, it should be quick." Haymitch, shrugged. He was well on his way to get wasted but he was still sober enough. Problem of indulging too often in alcohol, Finnick thought, it took longer and longer for you to feel its effects. He personally tried to stay as far from the booze as he could when he wasn't with them. Sober was safer in his opinion.

"What about the girl from Seven?" he said. "What's her name... Mason? She's still alive."

"That won't last once she finds herself on the Careers' path." Chaff sighed.

"As good as dead." Haymitch nodded in agreement.

Finnick wasn't so sure. His own tributes were dead but if he could bet on someone he would bet on her, she looked clever. Clever enough to look helpless at any rate.

"We're here for another good week, aren't we?" Chaff lamented.

Haymitch slumped deeper in his chair because Chaff's estimation was more than probably correct. The Games would go on for another few days and then there would be victory parties to attend, the crowning and after that, at long last, they would be able to leave. It could get boring really fast when you didn't have tributes to mentor anymore.

The elevator chimed, prompting Haymitch and Chaff to grunt in displeasure but Finnick smiled when he saw Effie.

"Still drinking I see." she said, as soon as she came in. She sat on the couch next to him because it was the last available place. Finnick welcomed her presence. Like he said, it could get boring really fast and you had to find your entertainment where you could. The strange relationship between Haymitch and his escort was one entertainement he wouldn't pass on for the world. It was always funny how Haymitch and Effie bickered like they couldn't stand each other when Finnick suspected they very much _liked_ each other. If that hadn't been the case then why would Haymitch always get so angry when Chaff was a little too vocal in his taunting ?

"Still dressed like a clown, I see." Haymitch snapped.

"Don't listen to him." Finnick gazed at her from head to toe very openly with his trademark wolfish smile. "You're gorgeous as ever."

"You need glasses, boy." Haymitch mumbled in his drink, earning a glare from the escort.

Finnick got up to fix her a drink, he didn't need to ask what she wanted, she always ordered the same cocktail and he had become quite proficient at mixing drinks.

"Oh, thank you." She gave him a relieved smile and took a sip of her glass. "Perfect."

"Only the best for my favorite escort." He grinned.

There was a twinkle of amusement in her eyes when she answered. "That is why you are my favorite victor, Finnick, your manners are flawless."

"Careful, Haymitch, I think the boy is trying to steal your escort." Chaff chuckled, obviously aware of what Finnick was doing. It was always funny to watch Haymitch squirm when men flirted with Effie.

"He's very welcome to." Haymitch grumbled, twirling his whiskey in his glass dispassionately. But the look in his eyes was sharp and only grew darker when Finnick casually placed a hand on Effie's leg.

"Are you sure?" he teased "Because I might just do that."

"And I might let you convinced me." Effie replied, probably enjoying making fun of Haymitch as much as they did. "After all, it's nice to feel appreciated once in a while."

"Isn't he a bit young for you?" Haymitch scorned, glaring daggers at the hand resting on her leg. "If you want to make a show of yourself, go ahead. I will be right here, laughing at you."

"What's wrong with a bit of maturity?" he joked.

Finnick's thumb traced deliberate slow circles on her thigh. Effie shot him a mildly annoyed look but he pretended not to notice. There never was any ambiguity in their relationship, they were friends and nothing else, she wouldn't take it the wrong way. Haymitch, however... District Twelve victor was quickly turning a lovely shade of purple.

Chaff burst out laughing. "Take off your hand, Finnick, he's going to have a stroke." His chuckles turned darker and he waved his lump around. "Or you may end up with one of those, hard to say."

"Are you that wasted already?" Haymitch scoffed "I don't care what the boy does."

"No?" Finnick was having too much fun. His hand went that little bit higher on her thigh and Haymitch's face grew that little bit sterner, till Effie whacked his hand away.

"Well, not that this wasn't fun, but I'm off to bed." Effie said, placing her empty glass on the coffee table before getting to her feet.

"Is that an invitation?" he grinned.

Haymitch's free hand was gripping the armrest so tight, his knuckles were white. Chaff was trying and failing to drown his laughter in his glass of whiskey.

Effie shook her head at him in silent disapprobation but there was a smile on her lips so he winked. "Try not to get into any troubles for a change." she instructed - with reason, there had been antecedents. "I don't fancy getting up in the middle of the night to get you out of Peacekeepers custody, this year." Yeah, antecedents... _That one time_ for instance.

He watched her disappear in the dark corridor, he could feel the burn of Haymitch's stare on him and he wondered if he had taken his teasing a little too far.

"Don't look so sour, Haymitch." Chaff rolled his eyes. "The kid is having you on. Nobody is going to put a finger on your precious Trinket."

"I don't care." Haymitch grumbled, leaning in to grab the bottle of whiskey and refill his glass.

"Sure, you don't." Chaff snorted, sharing an amused look with Finnick. "That's why you always look like you're going to rip the head off anyone who looks at her twice."

"You're drunk." Haymitch pointed his glass at him accusingly.

"Drunk as a skunk, armless as a penguin and still not blind" Chaff laughed.

Finnick chuckled. "She's a gorgeous woman, I don't see why..."

"Yeah, you like her, we all got it." Haymitch's voice was harsh. "Don't you have a girl back home waiting for you?"

Finnick raised his hand in surrender but that only made Chaff laugh more. "Oh, you've got it bad, buddy."

Haymitch downed his glass in one go and got up. "I'm going to bed."

"Which one?" Finnick asked his retreating back. He couldn't help it, really.

"Would you both shut up!" Haymitch growled, slamming the living-room door shut behind him.

Finnick doubted he appreciated the new round of laughter that saluted his departure.


	32. More Than That

Prompt : I just love your stories! Could you perhaps do a fic where Effie has to wash a car or something and Haymitch and the prep team and Cinna and Portia etc are just staring at her. Then Haymitch mocks her for ages afterward saying she's a tease and yeah... (Maybe like 75th games?) thanks!

_**More Than That**_

The buzzing sound of the television was a background noise as Portia and Effie reviewed their clothing options for the interview with Caesar, the next day, not really minding Cinna and Haymitch who were whispering in a corner of the room, so low she didn't know how they could hear anything given how loud they had turned the TV, but obviously having a tense conversation. Haymitch's frown kept deepening and Cinna's face grew more and more resolved. Katniss and Peeta had already gone to bed.

Portia was just suggesting that she should wear her green dress when Effie noticed that the men had been strangely silent for some time, no more banging glasses on the table, no more anxious chatter… She glanced at them to find them gaping at the giant screen on the wall. She didn't understood at once what was so fascinating, from what she could hear it was a documentary on some charity work that had been done in favor of people from the south of the Capitol who had been left homeless after a huge storm a few years back. A lot of people had contributed at the time, she could remember…

She had a bad feeling all of a sudden and when she looked around Portia to actually see the screen, she let out a shriek. "Turn that off!"

She ran to the coffee table as much as her heels allowed her to and wildly looked around for the remote but it was nowhere in sight. Her next targets were the two men standing next to the couch, staring with wide round eyes at the television which was displaying a carwash organized to collect money for the victims. Now, there would be nothing wrong with that if her younger self hadn't been lasciviously polishing an expensive black car, absolutely drenched, and clad in nothing but a short pink dress that stuck to her skin like a second skin, she didn't even have a wig on and her damp blond hair were stuck to her face. Modeling had been hard in the beginning. It wasn't as bad as the other girls, most of whom had been wearing white and had done everything they could to catch the cameraman's attention, but it wasn't very glorious either. Nothing she was proud of, anyway, charity or not. She finally spied the remote in Cinna's hand.

She launched herself at it but Cinna – and was _that_ done on purpose or was it instinctive? she couldn't say – threw the remote at Haymitch. Portia was a blessing, of course, as soon as she recovered from her initial surprise, she was there with Effie, smacking Cinna's head with a disapproving look and ordering Haymitch to turn off the television.

Haymitch, obviously, was having none of it. His eyes didn't even _stray_ from the screen as he raised the remote above his head, far from Effie's reach. She jumped, she clang on his arm, she even tried to push him but he didn't relent and he probably would have continued to make her suffer if Portia hadn't unplugged the television, effectively turning it off.

"You both should be _ashamed_ of yourself." the stylist declared, arms folded.

Cinna graciously bowed his head in regret but Haymitch only laughed. "I'm not the one who's sprawled on cars half naked… Why should I be ashamed?" Effie didn't whack his arm, she didn't smacked it, she simply and violently slapped it. The sound of it echoed in the silence but it only made him laugh harder. "Well, you shouldn't be ashamed either, sweetheart! I'm half sorry I don't own a car…"

"Enough." she yelped, feeling mortified. "I was young and…"

"You don't need to explain yourself, Effie." Portia cut in, kindly. "_They_ should know better and act like proper gentlemen."

Portia stared at Cinna until he winced. "My apologies, Effie. I don't know what came over me."

"I do." Haymitch chuckled, openly staring at her.

Effie's cheeks flared a brilliant red. "_You_ are a pig."

"And you are a tease." he retorted "So that should make us good friends."

"I am _not_ a tease." she protested, before remembering where she was. "_Manners_, Haymitch! You don't say that kind of things to a lady in public."

Cinna and Portia were clearly uncomfortable now.

"Does that mean I can tell you in private?" Haymitch snorted.

"I think it's time for us to go." Portia said before she could explain exactly how badly that conversation would go for him. "It's late and there will be a lot of work to do tomorrow."

Effie walked them to the elevator, trying hard to pretend nothing embarrassing had happened – fortunately, thanks to years of dealing with Haymitch's behavior, she was more than used to that kind of exercise. She planned on going back to her room directly and avoiding Haymitch until it would be strictly necessary for them to talk but when the elevator doors closed and she turned around, he was there, leaning against the wall and looking at her.

"So, you're blonde."

It wasn't what she had expected him to lead with. "Leave me alone, Haymitch."

"Oh, come on…" he sighed, but he seemed contrite enough. Again, not what she had expected. "Are you really angry?"

The corridor wasn't a place to have that kind of conversation, Avoxes could pass by, and she knew he wouldn't let the matter drop so she headed back to the living-room, she was not surprised to hear the sound of his footsteps following her. "No. I'm humiliated. Which, I suppose, was your aim so congratulations, you won."

"There's nothing to be humiliated about." he rolled his eyes, slumping down on the couch. "Well, I'm not sure there's much to be _proud_ of either, but…"

"You should have turned the television off when you first recognized me." she snapped, going over to the liquor cart – newly devoid of liquor to Haymitch's constant despair – and poured herself a glass of apple juice. "That's only proper."

"Yeah, see…" he snickered. "Proper isn't really my thing. You, washing cars and looking all sexy, on the other hand…"

"Haymitch!" she screeched. "You _can't_ say things like that."

"Why? I've said worse." he frowned, studying her. "Why does that make you uncomfortable?"

Did it? It was true he had said worse things along the years. It was actually kind of flattering in a way but… "It's not the problem." she said, placing the glass down on the cart. She wasn't thirsty anymore. "This is… objectifying and humiliating. I regret doing that. I don't want my friend looking at me and thinking about that. This is… This is a _fantasy_, I'm a real person."

"I suppose it would be really improper to mention I fantasized about you long before I saw you sprawled on the hood of a car?" he smirked, but his voice was light enough that she knew he was joking or, at least, partly joking.

"Highly." She picked up the glass again. Her mouth felt parched all of a sudden. "Also, impractical. We have the Quell to worry about."

"Well, Cinna and Portia are polite enough to act as if nothing happened." Haymitch shrugged. "So, I don't see a problem."

"_You_ are a problem." she complained. "The way you're looking at me right now is a problem."

He seemed to be enjoying her obvious mortification a little too much. "How am I looking at you?"

He was looking at her as if he wanted nothing else than drag her into his bedroom and keep her there indefinitely which, for some reason, was starting to have its effect on her because she wasn't as opposed to that very idea as she should be. "You know very well what I'm talking about."

He didn't falter under her accusing glare, he just waved her objection away. "I always look at you like that, sweetheart. You look at me the same way. We're usually happy not discussing it so why are we talking about that right now?"

Her glass clang when she put it down more violently than strictly necessary. "Because right now you're thinking about me washing cars and doing _things_ and that's _not_ who I am." She turned her back on him and walked to the bay window. The streets below were busy as ever, hundreds of cars lights going one way or another, people walking about… Even at night the Capitol never slept. "You want my body but I am more than that." She had become self-conscious after she had started modeling. Her beauty was her mean of living and that had become upsetting after a while to be reduced to her mere physical appearance. That was in part what had motivated her to quit being a model, of course, she had understood a tad too late that being an escort was exactly the same thing. They didn't chose unattractive escorts. They wanted beautiful, bubbly, happy escorts and so her appearance was still her prime concern. She had to be beautiful, she had to please, she had to seduce. She wanted to be more than that, she _was _more than that.

"Where does that come from?" he grumbled. She heard the couch squeak when he got up to join her by the window. She didn't look at him even when he propped himself against the glass to watch her. "Effie, if all I wanted from you was sex, I would have slept with you years ago and not bothered to get to know you or become your friend." She felt tears burning her eyes and she folded her arms protectively, feeling strangely vulnerable.

"What make you so sure I would have slept with you back then?" she scoffed, but it was weak because they both knew that if one of them had made the first move the other would have followed. There had been a spark from the very beginning.

"Honestly, I don't see what it matters that I've seen that video." Haymitch sighed, clearly annoyed with her. "I wanted you yesterday, I want you today and I will want you tomorrow. My imagination had a little push today, so what?" He placed a hand under her chin to make her look at him, his eyes were softer than his voice. "Granted that doesn't hurt, but I don't want you because you're gorgeous, I want you because you're clever, kind and sensitive. I want you because you give as good as you get and never let me boss you around. I want you because you care about the kids when nobody does." His hand trailed a little on her cheek and then he stepped back. "Don't tell anyone I've said something so soppy, they wouldn't believe you anyway."

She couldn't help but laugh quietly at that last part. "How can you be so infuriating and then say beautiful things like that?"

"Part of my charm, princess." he winked. "Now, are we good?"

"You're still infuriating." she sighed. "But I accept your apology."

He rolled his eyes. "This _wasn't_ an apology."

"I take what I can get with you." She joked.


	33. Walk Away

oh my god if you still take prompts i have an idea. Haymitch thought Effie was a bit stuck and shy but when they finally kiss it goes much further and he realizes that she's actually veryyyy naughty. Btw that one shot with Haymitch being shirtless was fucking GREAT omg, that's what gave me the idea. I love your writing ! :D

_**I'm fusing it with this one **_

I don't have any specific in mind, but could you write some sexual tension with a kiss set during CF, please? During the victory tour or maybe before/after Katniss' wedding photoshoot... idk :)

_**Walk away**_

"How can you live like that, Haymitch?" Effie chided him, moving several bottles from the ground to the coffee table. Haymitch found great pleasure in the way she hold the neck of the bottles by two of her gloved fingers, obviously disgusted. "This isn't a house, this is a pigsty."

He rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall, letting her fuss her full. "You do realize it's not me you're insulting but the woman Katniss insisted I hired to do the cleaning, right?"

She turned her head briefly but went on with her attempt to pick up every bottle. She wasn't cleaning, though, he knew, she was counting the bottles. She did that during the Games too. "I thought it was cleaner under all the garbage. No more dust and it doesn't smell like something crawled here to die anymore."

Yeah, between Katniss and Peeta, his way of living had drastically improved. Katniss had begged him to hire Hazelle and Peeta always made sure he wasn't passed out or choking in his vomit. The boy also forced him to shower once a day and to change clothes everyday – which was less of a problem now that Hazelle was doing the laundry but still. Katniss also usually made sure he ate now and then. Damn meddling kids.

He was too sober for this. He had just got up and he had only drunk a single glass. "Don't you have people to boss around over there?"

"Cinna has everything in hands." She sighed and faced him, suddenly looking less in control. "How drunk are you?"

"Not enough to deal with you." he said, stretching his arms above his head. Did she had to go and wake him up? He wasn't the one doing a photoshoot, why did he need to be up and about? "What's wrong?"

Because something must have been wrong if she felt the need to come here and count the bottles.

"The Quell will be announced in a few day." She was watching him closely, probably anxious about his reaction.

"Yeah." he spat. "If you're going to tell me I will be in the spotlight this year, you can save your breath because…"

"This is not…" She took a step closer, looking distressed. "Well, no, that is true too, but… It's not…"

He frowned, she was flustered and obviously upset and he didn't like that one bit. As he walked closer, he saw the tears shining in her eyes. "Effie, what's wrong?"

He wasn't expecting the fierce hug. Her arms squeezed his neck and he had no choice but to grab her waist in fear of overbalancing. When she didn't give any sign of letting go, he wrapped his arms around her uncertainly. "What's gotten into you, now, sweetheart?"

That wasn't like her. That wasn't like her at all. Whatever it was it must be bad.

"There are rumors about the Quell flying around between escorts and Gamemakers." she whispered in his ear.

"What kind of rumors?" The glass of liquor, his hangover… Everything was forgotten. His head was clear, the fear pumping through his veins was real. "What did you hear?"

"I don't want to tell you. It's silly. Speculations, I hope. It can't be true." she replied, tightening her embrace. "They won't do that, _they_ _won't_."

He forced her to let go of him, keeping hold of her shoulders, and searched her eyes. "_What_ did you hear ?" There was fear and despair on her face. She was dying to tell him, he realized, but she was holding her tongue for his sake. She was trying to protect him and if it was _that bad_, he wasn't sure he wanted to know. "Effie…"

"No." she gripped his wrists but he didn't take his hands off her shoulders. "I'm being stupid. What they're saying is ludicrous. I just… It made me worry about you, that's all. It was selfish I shouldn't have said anything."

"Worry about me." he repeated, in a desperate attempt to come back on familiar ground. "Why I didn't know you cared, princess…"

It fell flat.

His fingers were still digging into her flesh but he didn't seem to be able to let go. Her hands were still clasped around his wrists like handcuffs and the tension was gradually shifting from dread to something else. Standing so close to each other was never a good idea.

"I don't." she lied. "I've spent years training you, I don't want to start again with Peeta and Katniss."

"Training me." he snorted. "You make me feel like a dog."

"I'd rather have a dog." she retorted, but she lowered her eyes.

He stepped closer to catch her attention which was a mistake in itself because there wasn't much space to begin with. "Yeah?" They were standing chest to chest and he knew it was time to walk away. It wasn't the first time they had danced that dance. One of them always walked away. Twelve already had a pair of star-crossed lovers, it didn't need another one. "You would get bored without me."

"Inevitably." she breathed out, her hands running slowly from his wrists to his elbows, sliding under the unbuttoned sleeves of his shirt.

"Trinket." he warned. _Walk away_, he wanted to beg because he didn't know if he would be able to do it that time. It was getting harder and harder every year. The more ridiculous was the outfit, the more urgently he wanted to rip it off her body. The harder they bickered, the harder he wanted to kiss the insult off her mouth. The softer she looked at him when she thought he wasn't paying attention, the softer he wanted to touch her. The dance was coming to a end, somehow, Katniss and her berries had seen to that. The rebellion had begun. Now wasn't the time for…

She tilted her head a little, her monstrosity of a wig looked so heavy he didn't know how it managed to stay in place. "I feel as if the world is going to stop tomorrow." she confessed. "I feel as if we're all holding our breath, waiting for… _something_, but I don't know what it is, do you?"

She gripped his elbows tighter when his hands went for her wig but she didn't do anything when he started to take off pin after pin. It felt to him as if it was taking forever. "Stop me." he asked, at some point, but if she heard, she didn't acknowledge it. Soon enough her wig was thrown carelessly on the floor, like an answer to her previous question. That was what they were waiting for : the fall of the Capitol. She didn't seem to care about the wig, she didn't seem to care about anything but the fingers he was running through her hair, reddish blond strands that barely reached her shoulders. So much better than the atrocious colors she always wore on her head.

One of her hand strayed from his arm to his chest, retracing muscles that were strong once but that alcohol had made slack. He had trouble swallowing when she seemed to take a decision and started unbuttoning his shirt. She was half-way through when he remembered himself and grabbed her hands. "Sweetheart, walk away." He had intented it to sound as an order but it came out more like a plea. His head was bowed, they were so close, strands of her hair were ticking his nose, he could feel the ghost of her breath rolling on his throat.

"No." she refused. She only had to turn her head for their lips to brush against each other. And Haymitch was lost. There was nothing tender or loving in that kiss. It was hungry and a tad frantic and she did that wicked thing with her tongue that made him moan in her mouth. He had been wrong before, taking her wing off hadn't taken forever because forever was there, in her kiss. It wasn't before she half-ripped his shirt in her eagerness to get him out of it that he realized she was having the upper-hand and that wasn't how he had imagined that going at all.

"A bit impatient, are we?" he mumbled against the side of her neck, licking and nibbling at the skin there. His fingers were actively trying and failing to make sense of the numerous lacing on the back of her dress but he felt a knot give away and he counted that as a victory. "Maybe we should slow down." he teased, placing his hand on her waist but not quite being able to stop kissing her neck. She had a graceful neck, like a swan. And that dress still wasn't cooperating.

"Don't you dare." she growled, turning them around and steering him backward until his knees hit the side of the couch. He lost his balance so he grabbed the first thing he could: Effie. He couldn't help but chuckle when he found himself flat on his back with her sprawled on his bare chest.

"You know, when you yelled at me to get up, that wasn't how I pictured my day to go." he closed his eyes when she straddled him.

Had she planned the fall from start to finish? Given the way she was now happily biting his throat, he would have to say yes.

"Are you up now?" There was a wicked twinkle in her eyes. He wanted to roll them over but he kind of doubted she would appreciate falling on the floor.

"Sweetheart, when did you become such a free spirit?" he asked, breathlessly, while her hands wandered south and really… "_Not_ that I'm complaining." But she was always so adamant on manners and propriety and…

"Perhaps I always was." she winked, quickly dealing with the matter of her recalcitrant dress.

_Yeah_, Haymitch thought, slightly dazed. _No walking away now_.


	34. Secret Meetings

Prompt : My favourite ones are the ones with Portia and Cinna. I like the idea of them noticing little things about haymitch and Effie's relationship at an event like a party or dinner, then finding Effie and haymitch have snuck off to a room on their own or something?

_**Secret Meetings**_

"What are you plotting?" Cinna asked, low enough not to be overheard, as he slid effortlessly behind Portia. The Victory Party was raging on around them, it was getting late and most of the people still present were drunk or on their way to do so, people were dancing, celebrating… Cinna wouldn't have minded doing a little celebrating of his own even if he couldn't help but worry about Katniss' idea to pull out the berries. After her emotional goodbyes to Rue, it was… a bit too much on the rebellious side for the Capitol.

"I am not plotting." Portia denied, playfully whacking away the hands he had placed on her waist.

"You have your plotting look." he retorted. "Now, tell me what you're planning to do so we can go home sooner."

She glanced at him in amusement but still pointed out to a group in the crowd with her fan. The object of her attention wasn't hard to spot. Not too far from them stood Haymitch and Effie, obviously busy arguing with each other, surrounded by the Victors from Four, Seven and Eleven who were openly laughing at them. "Tell me." Portia smiled. "What do you see?"

"I see a fight of epic proportion that will probably lead Effie to throw her glass on the suit I spent hours designing especially for Haymitch." He liked that suit. It was both stylish and practical, it made Haymitch look dignified which, given his public image, was a feat.

"That's all?" She sounded disappointed.

"What do _you_ see?" he asked, resigned to the fact they weren't leaving anytime soon.

"I see the way they look at each other." She sighed.

"Like they want to commit murder?" he snorted. "Yes, I can see that too."

"Kill, fuck…" She waved his argument away with her fan. "There's not much difference."

"If Effie could hear you talk like that she would have a stroke." Cinna smiled, well used to her crude language when they were alone.

"Effie wouldn't notice me right now if I were ballet dancing in front of her." Portia leaned a little against his side. "They're so in love I'm jealous."

Cinna frowned. "Now, _I_ am jealous."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't be silly."

She let him wrap his arms around her waist and leaned back against him, swaying a little to the music and watching Haymitch and Effie make their round around the room. They kept arguing but Haymitch always guided her gently with a hand on the small of her back, she held his glass without him having to ask, they kept touching each other, small touch on the arm or the shoulder while they were talking… They didn't even seem aware they were doing it. And of course, there were the affectionate smiles Effie sent his way when he wasn't looking and the longing in Haymitch's eyes when she was looking away. They didn't seem to have a clue about how they felt for one another.

"Alright." he said, at last. "As usual, you are right."

"You would think after all those years I would be used to you saying that but… It's still music to my ears." Portia joked.

"How are we proceeding?" Because Cinna was _sure_ she had a plan. She always had one.

"Well, I was thinking matching outfits for the crowning ceremony." she mused. "And a little nudging here and there. Maybe you should go dance with Effie, be really charming."

Just at that moment, a Capitol man approached Effie, probably to ask for a dance. She seemed to refuse politely but Haymitch's scowl was a sight to behold.

"I don't fancy getting beaten up by Haymitch, thank you very much." Cinna winced. "Why don't _you_ go and dance with him."

"Because I had my nails done with Effie this afternoon and I know how sharp her manicure is." she replied. "Maybe we should be blunt. Now is the time." Effie was quickly disappearing into the crowd. "I will follow her, you take Haymitch."

She was gone before he could say anything and he found himself with empty arms. He shook his head a little and chased after Haymitch who was forcing his way through the crowd in the opposite direction Effie had taken. The victor exited the room and Cinna followed at a distance, curious to know where he was going, all thought of playing matchmaker far from his mind. Had Haymitch succeeded in making contact with rebels?

Haymitch went into one of the private viewing room and closed the door behind him. Cinna frowned and was about to go behind him when he spied Effie coming from another corridor and he deftly hid in another room. He peered out of his hiding place to find Portia staring at the door Haymitch just went in.

"This is the most ridiculous thing you have ever made me do." Cinna said, but Portia didn't seem fazed.

"What are they doing in there ? Why secret meetings?" Portia frowned. "Do you think?"

"Do you _really_ want to know?" Cinna placed a hand on the door handle.

Portia's eyes widen. "Don't…"

But too late. He had opened the door. "Oh, sorry." he apologized, not at all that convincingly when Effie and Haymitch shot apart from their embrace. He didn't give them time to react before he closed the door again. "I don't think our matchmaking skills are needed. Can we go home now?"

She gripped his arm and steered him away. They managed to get three corridors away before they dissolved into giggles like two unruly children.


	35. Can't Split a Team

Prompt; Haymitch cuddling with Effie because he feels protective over her since her torture. (⌒‿⌒)

_**Can't split a team**_

Haymitch was startled awake by a piercing scream and half-shot out his bed, knife in hand, before he could properly remember where he was. The second it took him to remember was enough for the screaming to stop, but he ran a hand on his tired face and dropped the knife on the bed anyway before opening the door of his bedroom.

Plutarch opened his at the same time but Haymitch waved him back inside and his friend didn't even try to question him. The door closed and Plutarch was gone, probably back to sleep. After Coin's assassination and Katniss' subsequent long and painful trial they were still in the middle of, Plutarch had offered him his guestroom. Plutarch's house hadn't suffered in the Capitol bombings which was short of a miracle given the state of some of the other houses on the same street.

Haymitch walked to the third bedroom and opened the door without bothering to knock. Effie flinched when he stepped into the room but he didn't take it personally, she was probably still shaken by the nightmares and he doubted it was him she was afraid of. She was sitting in the middle of her bed, covers pooled in her lap, her head clasped in her hands. It made his heart ache for her.

It was him who had invited Effie to stay with them – which, as she had told him later, you really shouldn't do without asking the owner of the house first, not that Plutarch would have thrown her out – when he had found out that her apartment hadn't survived the Capitol bombings and that after she had been released from rebel custody she had had to live in a shelter that was neither fit nor recommended for someone who had just gone through something as traumatic as she did.

"You didn't take your pills, sweetheart." The _again_ went unspoken.

"They make me dizzy." she said, like she always did. They were having that very conversation almost every night. She had had no problem with sleeping pills before her imprisonment but since her release, she hated them. Because of the other medicine she was taking, it made her nauseous and she resented the lack of control, it made her afraid of what could happen while she was out of it. Haymitch could understand that so he never really made a fuss about it. Plutarch, on the other hand, would very much have loved a night of undisturbed rest but he was never too vocal in his scolding.

"Scoot over." Haymitch instructed.

She did without much resistance and he climbed into bed. It only took a few minutes for them to get comfortable, they were used to this by now. He gathered her into his arms, her back pressed to his chest, her head cushioned on his left biceps but the rest of his arm gently curled around her head, his right arm wrapped around her waist – but careful of the wound on her hip, healed but still tender to the touch – his knees pressed against the back of her knees until they were spooning. She only felt safe that way at night, when he was practically draped over her like a human shield.

"Better?" he asked, fingers playing with the short strands of hair. She stiffened and he let go quickly, cursing himself for not remembering that. They had cropped her hair short in the Capitol prison, nearly shaved her head, it was starting to grow back but it was a slow process and she hated it. She still wore wigs even if that fashion had come and gone as far as Capitol citizens were concerned.

"Yes." she whispered nonetheless gripping the hand that rested on her stomach. "Thank you."

"No need for thanks." he grunted, like he did every night. "What was the nightmare about?"

He was careful not to treat her traumatic experience like he did his. They weren't cut out the same way. Burying everything deep down and pretending it didn't exist wouldn't be good for her. Frankly, it wasn't that good for him either and it was worse since he had to cut down on his daily consumption of alcohol.

Liquor wasn't easy to find nowadays and he had to pace himself or face the drastic possibility of finding himself with nothing but water to drink. So he busied himself. There was Katniss to take care of, Katniss' trials, Effie, and Twelve to represent until they could organize elections and sent someone who would care more than he did about petty questions like how many cart of wood were they allowed for reconstruction. His days were long and his nights were short, and he couldn't wait to go back to his house and forget _everything_. He had, at least, succeeded in sending Peeta back a few weeks ago, Katniss currently was his biggest problem. One gone, one to go.

"I was back there and I was alone." She shivered and he held her tighter. "I kept calling for help but nobody answered. I was alone."

"You're not alone." He sighed. "I'm here."

"I couldn't tell what was the nightmare and what was real." she confessed slowly. "I thought, maybe… _This_ was the dream." She squeezed his hand and he squeezed back.

"Me in your bed, that's your dream, princess?" he teased. "You should have said that years ago."

She nudged him with her leg but that was it : no outraged retort, no scolding about manners, not even an ironic snort. He missed her. She was in his arms and yet, he missed her. Effie was a shell of what she once was. A fragile, vulnerable shell.

"Plutarch thinks they're finally going to agree to send Katniss back to Twelve." He had known for a few days, but hadn't told her before. He didn't know why. It just seemed… "It's going to move pretty quickly once they say yes."

"That's good." She sounded genuinely pleased. He knew she was worried about the girl but they didn't let Katniss have many visitors so Effie hadn't been able to contact her. He was one of the few non-medical members of staff allowed to see her.

"We made a deal with Paylor, though." Haymitch sighed, there was no good way to say this. "She will be released into my custody. I have to bring her back to Twelve and make sure she doesn't get into any troubles which means…"

"You're leaving." she finished for him. He could feel her body tensing by the second, she was clutching his hand so hard he was beginning to lose feelings in some of his fingers. "When?"

"I don't know." He pressed a kiss to her head, hoping it would help soothe the anxiety she was so obviously feeling. "But soon."

"Alright." Her voice was shaky and her breathing was quick. He would bet there were tears in her eyes. "That's good. You hate it here. You should go home."

"I want you to come home with me." There. It was said. To the back of her head rather than to her face, granted, but it was said and he had agonized over how to ask her for days, now, so…

"With you? To Twelve?" she sounded disbelieving and a little shocked.

"You don't have anything here." He gave a one-shoulder shrug. No apartment, no family, and given that Coin had been there first when they had tried to sentence her to death with the rest of the Hunger Games staff, she had practically no money left. She couldn't work yet, and she wouldn't impose on Plutarch long after Haymitch left, so what was she going to do? "You're cleared of all charges. You're free to go. Start anew."

"In Twelve, where I reaped children every year and sent them to their death?" It was bitter and desperate. "They will never accept me."

"You didn't realize what you were doing until you were already an escort and then you were trapped like the rest of us. You tried to help." Haymitch sighed. That, too, was a conversation they had had numerous times in the last month. "I vouched for that. Plutarch vouched for that. Peeta spoke highly of you. Katniss put you on her list. I'm not saying everyone will welcome you with open arms but I don't think it will be much of an issue. We have your back. We wouldn't have your back if we weren't sure and people in Twelve know that. Beside…" he snorted. "If you stay here, who are you going to cuddle with every night?"

Not that he would ever admit to any cuddling. He wasn't the cuddly type. He had a reputation to maintain.

"Plutarch's next door, you know." she deadpanned.

It was so much something the old Effie could have said that it made him snicker more than it usually would. It was relief mixed with a tad of hysteria and perhaps some exhaustion. He lived for those signs that Effie was still herself, that she was just confused and wounded and hiding somewhere in that empty shell of her. Now if Katniss could just do the very same and crept out of her catatonic self…

"Yeah, somehow I don't see that happening." He kissed her shoulder lightly. That was all there was between them, small affectionate touches and cuddles in the night. He had never properly kissed her, he had never tried to push further, they were moving at her pace. She was the captain of their ship. She was too fragile and lost for that to be otherwise. But Plutarch had been there all along. He had seen how frantic Haymitch had been when they couldn't find her, how desperate to get to her, how worried, how… Plutarch knew more than he was saying. Sometimes, Haymitch thought Plutarch had guessed before _he_ even suspected it. No way Plutarch would even think of climbing in her bed like he did every night.

"Haymitch…" Her voice trailed off and he felt her shift in his arms. He rolled on his back so she could turn around. She propped herself on her elbow to look at him properly but she stayed close enough that his arms were still wrapped around her. "You don't owe me anything. What happened to me wasn't your fault." It kind of was. He had thought she would be safe long enough for the rebels to retrieve her at the same time as Katniss' prep team. He had thought her Capitol citizenship would protect her. But it didn't. They were too late for her and he felt guilty about that, he felt responsible because it was on him, it was _his _miscalculation. She had forgiven him, though. He wasn't sure she would have if he hadn't come for her but he had, he had found her, he had gotten her out of her cell and he had protected her from Coin… "You don't owe me anything." she said again.

How wrong she was. He owed her all the nights she had spent looking after him when it wasn't her job to do so. He owed her all the times when she had made tense situations better with her silly nonsense. He owed her the kind and unreserved – though sometimes exasperated – friendship she had gifted him with. He owed her the Games she had somehow made manageable for him to go through. He owed her all that and a thousand more things.

"Okay." He brushed the tip of his fingers against her cheek. Her cheekbones were sharp and her cheeks were hollow like they had never been before. She had always been slim but now she was just downright skinny. Each time he put his arms around her, he could feel every bone in her body. "Truth is I'm a selfish bastard and I can barely bear having you out of my sight when you're a few blocks away so I don't think going to the other end of the country is going to help."

He hated leaving her behind at Plutarch's house every day. He couldn't help but think someone would come while he wasn't there to protect her and take her away again. That was a thought he couldn't fathom. He needed to be sure she was safe and the only way he could do that was by keeping her with him.

She studied him for some time in the darkness. There was enough dim light leaking through the curtains from the lampposts in the street that he could see her face. Her eyes were focused, that was good. She tended to have a vacant look sometimes, that meant she had retreated in herself. "Do you really want me to go with you?" Her question was soft and unsure.

"Yes." He didn't even hesitate, he didn't try to lie and say she should do what _she_ wanted. He was selfish and she was fragile. She needed to get stronger, to built her life again, and he wanted to be there to make sure she would be fine. They couldn't do that in the Capitol, so Twelve it was. "I want you home with me and the kids. We're a team, aren't we? You can't split a team."

She blinked slowly and then laid back down on his chest. "We're not a team, we're a family." she mused. "I will come home with you."

He closed his eyes in relief, tightening his embrace. "Good."


	36. Winning is Sweet

Original prompt : Can i ask for one where Effie for once wins on one of their teasing battles and everyone is there to see (Katniss, Peeta, Portia, Cinna) n** make fun of.

_**Winning is sweet.**_

"Johanna Mason is certainly something." Peeta mumbled, around a mouthful of his appetizer.

"That she is." Haymitch agreed, with a smirk that Effie could only describe as dreamy.

Cinna wisely refrained from commenting and lost himself in the contemplation of his glass of wine, Portia rolled her eyes discreetly and Katniss' frown only deepened.

"What happened?" Effie asked, because she was sure there was a story underneath. She hadn't been able to join them after the Opening Ceremony but she had heard enough from Seven escort to know Mason was absolutely fed up with her outfit.

"Johanna was her usual charming self." Haymitch shrugged, without losing his smirk. "Fiery that one. Watch out, Katniss."

"Watch out for flashers?" The girl huffed. "Yeah, I will remember that. Sorry, I didn't enjoy the show as much as you two did."

Effie tilted her head. "Flashers? Show? What did Mason _do_, Katniss?"

Peeta was suddenly as interested as Cinna was by his glass and pretended not to notice Katniss' sullen staring.

"Nothing much. She asked Peeta to unzip her ridiculous dress and then stripped naked in the middle of the elevator." Katniss spat. "Oh, and Haymitch thanked her afterwards."

Haymitch managed to ignore Effie's glare for thirty seconds, a new record in brevity certainly. Then he winked at her with this stupid look on his face. "It _was_ a good show, sweetheart. Only proper to thank her, I thought you would approve."

"She was nice." Peeta piped "I don't think…" But he fell silent when Cinna nudged him quietly and it was for the best because Katniss and Portia had stopped scowling at Haymitch to turn to him. Not Effie, though. Oh, no. Effie had her own battle to fight.

"I don't approve of you encouraging Peeta to act that way." she said. "You have to set a good example."

Haymitch lifted an eyebrow and slumped a little deeper in his chair, crossing his leg without any care for his sloppy attitude. She had known him long enough to know that this was _his_ battle stance: casual and sprawled, ready to tease her into ridicule. Well, not tonight. She wouldn't have it.

"I set a good example, I thanked her." He turned to Peeta and raised his glass at him. "Always thank a woman afterwards, boy."

"Haymitch!" Effie and Portia yelped at the same time, even if Portia sounded more amused than anything. Effie was far from amused.

"What?" Haymitch faked innocence was starting to grate on her nerves. "You make me thank you all the time."

The silence was deafening.

"He doesn't mean it like that." Effie fumed, livid.

Haymitch, to her utter mortification, only smirked. "Don't I?"

Cinna cleared his throat. "Alright, what about dinner?"

"Dinner sounds good." Katniss said, ill-at-ease.

"Peeta, Katniss, why don't you go to your room for a while. I will call you for dinner." Effie snapped, glaring at him with all the force of her anger.

"Yeah, kids, run to your room while mommy and daddy have a row." he mocked her. "You do realize they're all grown up now, right?"

"You do realize she's going to kill you, right?" Katniss snorted.

"Nah, murder wouldn't be very proper." Haymitch replied, downing his glass. "Besides, she would miss me."

"It is rude to speak about someone in third person when they're standing in front of you." Effie scolded them. "Which brings me back to my original claim." She pointed an accusing finger at Haymitch. "You have a terrible influence on the children."

"Mason got naked, you know what she's like. What was I supposed to do?" he sighed, like she was being unreasonable.

"You should have averted your eyes and told her it was inappropriate." She said, folding her arms. "You should have made a point of telling her she was being ridiculous. _Not_ thank her for her strip-tease, it will only encourage her to do it again." Peeta and Haymitch exchanged a hopeful smile and if they had wanted to be discreet, really… "Are you even listening to me?"

"Come on, sweetheart, let's be realistic, if Johanna Mason wants to parade naked in front of me… I am not going to stop her." He rolled his eyes.

"You can be debauched on your own time." she hissed. "Right now, you're responsible for Peeta and Katniss and…"

"That has _nothing_ to do with me. I'm a man, she's a beautiful woman." Haymitch finished his glass and put it down on the coffee table. "Cinna, what would you have done?"

Cinna, given the displeasure written on his face, would have preferred _not_ to be dragged into that conversation. "I think we should go have dinner."

"Yeah, not bad." Haymitch smirked. "Should have thought of that."

"You should have thought about fraternizing with the enemy?" Effie clucked her tongue in disapproval.

"If the enemy is Johanna Mason? In a heartbeat." His eyes were twinkling with amusement. He probably didn't even like Mason that much. Effie didn't like her _at all_, as he was well aware of, so this was all a plot to make her mad. He found that hilarious for some reason. And it only made her even angrier.

"You do realize she was trying to seduce _Peeta_, not you." Effie's stare was a challenge.

"I don't know, princess." he shrugged. "Every woman's corset isn't as tight as yours… Some even like old victors who know how to have fun…"

"Seriously, dinner?" Peeta cut in. "Before this becomes even more embarrassing?" he mumbled that last part but neither Effie nor Haymitch acknowledged him.

"Yes, but, you see…. News travel fast." Effie grinned, because she had him exactly where she wanted him. "And little birds told me there's a reason you're the one thanking women instead of the other way around."

Cinna nearly choked on his glass of wine, Portia hid her amusement behind her hand, Katniss looked at her with amazement and Peeta seemed embarrassed.

He opened his mouth and then closed it, raising his hands in surrender. "Not bad, Trinket." An amused smile played on his lips. "Not bad at all."

"I believe dinner is ready." Effie said. "If you'd care to pass into the dining-room…"

They scrambled up and into the next room faster than they ever had. Effie and Haymitch were slower, he placed a hand on the small of her back when they went into the next room. "Not bad but patently untrue, sweetheart." he smirked. "Just for the record."

"I believe in what I see." she retorted simply.

His deep chuckles affected her more than she cared to show but she couldn't help her sharp intake of breath when he leaned in a little so she would be the only one to hear him. "Is that a dare? Do you want me to make you say thank you?"

"You _might_ make me say thank you." she smiled innocently. "But _I_ could make you beg. _Sweetheart_."

She was very sure that if the others hadn't been looking at them curiously, probably wondering what they were whispering about on the doorstep, he would have slammed her against the wall right there. She felt glee as she watched him walk to his place at the head of the table, a frustrated glow on his face.

Winning was sweet.


	37. Wandering

Original Prompt : What about a Curious Effie during the Victory tour, they are in seven and after the kids said their speeches and the square was cleared she wanted to explore and she goes alone to take pictures of the wooden buildings and it's crafting around the square. She doesn't care about the ammount of peacemaker that are our there, she just goes out and start wandering aroung and one peacekeaper joins her to tell her she need to get back inside, she dissmises him not giving second thoughts cause she is not doing anything wrong but the peacekeeper has low patience and take her camera down and destroyed it, she gets mad and the peacekeaper takes her by the arm to drag her to the building, she fights him ( a big mistake) and slap the man and the man slap her back and Haymitch and the others that were looking for her saw what happen and Haymitch attack the peacekeaper for what he has done and the peacekeaper doesn't care cause he is doing his job.

_**Wandering**_

Seven had a lot of interesting architectural oddities. Effie couldn't help herself, really, she had always been curious and she had a liking for architecture so, once the square had been cleared after Katniss and Peeta had given their speeches and she had made sure they were both with Cinna and Portia, she exited the Justice Building to take a look around. Buildings in Seven were really astounding, they were all built primary in wood rather than concrete which made her wonder what would happen if a fire was to arise because surely it would spread and in a matter of minutes the whole town would be ablaze…

She took a few pictures with the brand new camera she had purchased specially for the Victory Tour, and wandered further down the square, quietly humming to herself.

"Ma'am, what are you doing here?"

The voice was deep and aggressive, she jumped with a frightened yelp, half-convinced she was going to be attacked until she caught sight of the familiar white uniform. "Oh. It's alright. I'm just looking around."

"You are not allowed out of the Justice Building." The Peacekeeper said. "You need to go back inside."

"_Not allowed_ ?" She nearly laughed at that. "Do you know who I am?"

"No and I don't particularly care." His gun wasn't really pointing in her direction but it wasn't really pointing at the ground either and Effie didn't like his attitude.

"Well, I will have you know…" she started, a lecture already taking form in her mind.

"Is that a camera?" The man frowned and plucked it out of her hand before she could react. "Pictures are forbidden." He looked at some of the latest photo, ignoring her protestations or her attempts at getting her device back. "What are you trying to find here? Why are you so interested in the buildings?" He looked at her up and down and then snorted really unkindly. "You're the worst rebel I've ever seen."

He threw her camera on the ground and stomped his foot upon it.

"What on Earth! Are you mad? Do you know how much this camera costs?!" she shouted, incensed by his idiotic behavior. "You are going to _pay_ for it. You…"

"_You_ are going to shut up." He sneered, grabbing her arm to drag her God knew where.

She automatically tried to get free, now genuinely scared of this man who was clearly deranged, but he refused to let her go. So she did what countless instructors had taught her in her auto-defense classes, she started screaming and struggling as fiercely as she could. The Peacekeeper clearly wasn't expecting that because he was so surprised his grip slackened and she managed to escape. Unfortunately, her heels only took her so far before he grabbed her once again, more roughly than before. She screamed harder.

"Shut up, you worthless…" he started. It was instinct really. It wasn't much of a punch, more of a slap of sort, but still she hit with her fist rather than her palm. Her hand hurt afterwards. She understood her mistake the second she caught sight of his irate face, it was too late for regrets though. She didn't even have time to raise her hands to protect her face before the blow came down. He slapped her so hard her vision went white and she fell on the ground hard. "Up." the man commanded. "I said up." He went to grab her arm again but, all of a sudden, he was yanked back and thrown far from her.

"Oh, Effie, are you alright?" Portia asked, clearly frightened. The stylist crouched next to her, trying to get a good look at her face. She helped her to her feet.

"_What _do you think you're doing ?" Haymitch growled, marching toward the Peacekeeper.

"Haymitch, stop." Cinna warned, a restrictive hand on his arm.

They were both standing in front of Portia and Effie, effectively protecting them from the Peacekeeper who had gotten back to his feet and was pointing his gun at them. Another Peacekeeper was standing on the side, he was older and looked annoyed at the commotion.

"This man attacked me." Effie explained, hugging herself.

"She was taking pictures of the buildings, sir." her attacker said, to the older one. "I believe she's a…"

"She's District Twelve escort." Haymitch cut in, there was something threatening in his voice. "You just hit a _Capitol_ _citizen_."

"Pictures aren't allowed." the older Peacekeeper said, waving at the other one to lower his gun. "And she wasn't supposed to be out of the Justice Building so this begs the question, what was she doing out there?"

"I wasn't doing anything wrong." Effie protested, annoyed. "I was just…"

"Shut up, sweetheart." Haymitch instructed. It wasn't harsh but she instinctively fell silent despite the rudeness of it. "Cinna, why don't you take Portia inside and check on the kids?"

The stylists hesitated but the older Peacekeepers nodded at them to go. Without Portia by her side, Effie felt strangely vulnerable so she went to stand closer to Haymitch. He stepped slightly in front of her. What he was doing wasn't lost on her. He was shielding her.

"You really think an _escort_ could be a rebel?" Haymitch snorted. "Peacekeepers aren't bright in this part of the country, are they? She's Capitol through and through, that one."

"What was she doing out there, then ?" her attacker asked.

"I…" Effie huffed, but Haymitch reached behind him and gripped her wrist so she stopped talking.

"Never said she was clever." He squeezed her arm softly.

The old Peacekeeper seemed really irritated by the whole business. "Go back inside, both of you, and stay where you're supposed to be. You've been warned."

Haymitch didn't lose a second in dragging her back inside. He opened the first door he found and pushed her inside.

"This is unbelievable!" she fumed, as soon as they were alone. "I will lodge an official complaint and…"

"Are you _stupid_?" Haymitch snapped, steering her to one of the window to look at her cheek in the light. "What were you doing out there? Were you trying to get yourself killed?" There was absolutely nothing gentle in the way he gripped her chin to study her face. "Fuck, Effie, use your head!"

"I just wanted to look at the buildings." she muttered, lowering her eyes. "No one was there. I didn't think there would be any danger."

"Yeah, _think_ _again_." The tip of his fingers brushed against her cheek but she flinched back. It was throbbing. "It's going to leave a bruise." he said, more calmly. "Put more make-up on. I don't want the kids to see that." She nodded sheepishly, her eyes filling up with tears. "That was _reckless_ and _stupid_. I expected some stunt like that from Katniss' or Peeta's prepteam, not from you. You're clever, you must know what's happening out there, why tempt fate?"

"I didn't think there would be a problem." she said defensively, folding her arms protectively. "There was no one there. Quit scolding me, you're not the one with the bruised cheek."

"No. I'm the one who almost punched a Peacekeeper because he raised a hand on you. I don't need to tell you what's the punishment for attacking a Peacekeeper in the Districts, do I?"

Their eyes met abruptly. She didn't need him to tell her. She knew. _Death_.

"I am sorry." There was nothing else to say, really. "I really didn't mean…"

"Yeah, right." He brushed his fingers against her cheek again, more carefully. "Does it hurt?" There was something dark and dangerous in his voice, something that told her he desperately wanted to find the man who hurt her and introduce him to his knife.

"No." she lied. "My hand hurts much more." She showed him the bruised knuckles.

"Did you do that when you fell or…" he frowned, propping it on his palm to have a closer look. "You punched him. Even more stupid than I thought. And you nearly broke your hand, too. Did no one teach you how to punch?"

"I can't say someone did." She felt vexed. Her blow hadn't been _that_ bad.

He looked at her with exasperated fondness. "Here." He took hold of her unhurt hand and manipulated it until it was a fist. "Like that. Never say I never did something for you. Now, don't go and hit anymore Peacekeepers, Trinket."

"Are you still mad at me?" she asked, a little uncertainly.

"Yes." His mouth was pinched in a hard line. "But I'm madder at the man who hurt you."

"I am sorry" she said again because she had been stupid, she could acknowledge that at least.


	38. Domestic

Prompt : Haymitch and Effie are caught making out by Cinna and Portia and Effie tries to buy their silence ..XD

_**Domestic**_

"Stop that." Effie tried to sound stern but she couldn't help her giggling when Haymitch kissed her neck, his stubble tickling her skin. "Haymitch, I'm serious, we can't…"

"Oh, we _can_." he mumbled against her lips, pushing her deeper into the couch cushions. "We _shouldn't_, but we _can_."

It was late enough that the lights of the living-room car were off because no one bothered turning them on. This conversation wasn't supposed to end like that, she thought, they had started shouting after an embarrassing argument with Katniss and Peeta about how it wasn't proper for them to sleep in the same room. Effie had been the voice of reason there but Cinna and Portia had been reluctant to say anything and Haymitch, of course, had backed up the children like he always did. Katniss had been the first to leave, angry and flustered, quickly followed by Peeta and the stylists had flown once Haymitch and Effie had _really _ started screaming at each other. How they had ended up sprawled on the couch, Effie wasn't absolutely sure but, then, she hardly ever was. It seemed every time they argued it more or less always resulted in the same way: with Haymitch's hands roaming on her body. She wasn't complaining about that.

"Let's get back to the bedroom." she breathed out when his hand ran on her thigh. Her skirt was riding dangerously high, his shirt was untucked and mostly unbuttoned, his hair was all tousled from her fingers brushing through it as they kissed… "Let's just…" She never finished her sentence because he was nibbling at her earlobe and she couldn't focus when he was doing that. "_Haymitch_…"

"Yes, princess?" There was a smile in his voice. Teasing and smug. She hated the fact that he had the upper hand so she hooked a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss that made him moan.

She didn't notice the lights at once. She thought it must have been a few seconds between the surprised gasp and Haymitch's curse, and then he let go of her and she was left staring at Cinna and Portia's amused but embarrassed faces.

"Sorry." Cinna smiled. "We didn't know anyone was still in here."

"I… We were…" Effie stammered, searching her mind for a convincing explanations. "We…" She looked at Haymitch for help but he only lifted his eyebrows and leaned in to snatch his glass from the coffee table where he had forgotten it earlier. He was obviously enjoying her embarrassment. That man would be the death of her.

"I think we have a good idea of what you were doing, Effie." Portia joked, not unkindly. "However, it would probably be… _safer_, shall we say, to take that up to one of your rooms? If Katniss or Peeta were to stumble upon you two…"

"Especially after all that talking about propriety…" Cinna added, to her upmost embarrassment.

Effie could feel her cheek getting more and more flushed by the second. "This is totally different."

"Yeah, we're actually_ getting _some action." Haymitch snorted. "Poor Peeta, on the other hand…"

He grunted when she dug her sharp nails in his knee, but, really, he had asked for it. "What Haymitch is trying to say is that we're adults who are responsible and not boisterous teenagers who are acting on their hormones, isn't it?"

Cinna didn't seem particularly convinced by that explanation but neither did Haymitch. Haymitch however seemed to quickly understand that it was in his interest to agree with her if he wanted to be allowed in her room later. "Yeah."

"See?" Effie beamed.

Portia looked ready to burst out laughing but she hid her grin behind her hand. Cinna, on the other hand, only shrugged with a teasing smile. "Why, you should have explained it to Katniss and Peeta that way, earlier. I'm sure they would have been a lot more understanding."

"You can't tell them." Effie warned, alarmed. "They mustn't know. No one must know."

"Nice to feel loved." Haymitch mumbled but it was more for show than anything else. He had a calculating glint in his eyes. He didn't want people to know more than she did. They each had their reasons for that, but the main one was that relationships between mentors and escorts weren't encouraged if not openly forbidden.

"Because, perhaps, you would have troubles explaining to Katniss why she isn't allowed to do something you can do?" Cinna mused.

"You wouldn't tell her." Effie said, but she felt a little unsure. She sometimes had trouble understanding Cinna. He was always so mysterious and brooding and the next thoughtful and kind…

"Wouldn't I?" Cinna lifted an eyebrow. "Doesn't seem very fair to me."

"What do you want?" She studied him quickly. It often worked that way in the Capitol. Paying someone off was the quicker way to get rid of him. But Cinna had enough money of his own, Portia had everything she wanted and she couldn't think of a single thing to offer them. "Everything I can give, I will."

"Everything?" The twinkle in Cinna's eyes was more obvious now.

"_Not_ everything." Haymitch cut in, suddenly tugging on her skirt which was still higher than it should be. She flushed even more at what he was implying but smoothed her ruffled clothing. "I would stop right there if I were you."

Cinna rolled his eyes. "Don't worry on that account, I'm not interested."

"Better not." Portia piped in, there was threat in her voice. "Or you will be in trouble."

"I want two hours off when we reached the Capitol." Cinna sighed. "You said it wouldn't fit in the schedule but I need them."

"Deal." Haymitch agreed. "Now go away."

"Manners, Haymitch." She scowled, getting up. "And I am the one going away." She stopped in front of Portia and Cinna. "You both will have your two hours but if I hear the smallest rumor about Haymitch and me, I will have my revenge."

She thought she heard Cinna say she could be scary once the door had closed behind her. She wasted no time in going to her room and taking out her schedules for the following days. Finding two hours to give the stylist was a conundrum and by the time she heard her bedroom door squeaking open, she was sitting cross-legged on her bed, surrounded by dozens of papers.

"Now is not the time, Haymitch, I am busy." she said without even looking up. He didn't reply but she heard him toe his shoes off and then, in the corner of her eyes, she glimpsed his shirt falling to the floor. "I'm serious." But, of course, it didn't stop him from coming to sit behind her, nor did it discourage him from rubbing her shoulders. "I have to rearrange the schedule, thanks to you." She would have negotiated other terms of agreements had it been left to her.

"Do it tomorrow." he said, taking off the pins that kept her wig in place. It didn't take long before her hair was loose on her shoulder and he started kissing her neck again as if nothing at all had happened. She tilted her head against her best judgment to give him better access but she kept her eyes on her papers.

"I can't." she hissed. "Stop doing that."

"Of course, you can." he grunted, nibbling her neck which prompted her to lean back against his chest.

She pulled his hand of her stomach and gave him her notepad forcefully. "Look."

He sighed but he humored her and studied the schedule for the next day. District Six. Everything was planned down to the very minute. She'd have no free time to devote to rescheduling the Capitol trip because the stylists wanted two hours for themselves.

"You forgot something." Haymitch said, pointing to her – perfect – schedule.

"I did not." she huffed in outrage, but she still snatched the notepad from him to glance it over. She couldn't see the slightest mistake.

"Sure, you did, sweetheart." She could feel his fingers patiently undoing the knots of her girdle dress which she didn't mind because those corsets were a bore and it would be nice to breathe more easily. "I don't see any slot with _hot_ _steamy sex_ on it."

"That's because I won't need one." she claimed in the sing-song voice that annoyed him so much.

"Wanna bet?" The dress finally came loose and he made it slid from her shoulders.

"I won't have time to reschedule everything later, Haymitch." It was a lost cause, though. His bare chest against her bare back was far too distracting. "I have to do this now."

"Cinna was teasing you, you know." He said, nudging the papers down the bed with his foot. "He won't tell."

"Even so." She raised her arms to let him get rid of her dress. "A deal is a deal. I gave him my word."

He sighed and kissed the back of her neck softly. "How long?"

She studied the papers scattered around them, estimated the time it had taken her to establish a schedule in the first place and winced. "Long."

"Alright." He sounded a bit disappointed and strongly frustrated. She felt bad when he got up. It had been months since the last Games and she had missed him but… "Here. You will get cold." He handed her his shirt before exiting her bedroom less cautiously than she would have liked. Cinna and Portia _did_ have a point, after all. It wouldn't do for the children to realize their mentor and their escort were doing exactly what they had forbidden them to do. Well… Or rather, _not_ doing, in that case. She slipped the shirt on, smiling at the familiar smell of faint liquor and just _Haymitch, _and went back to her papers. It hadn't been ten minutes before the door opened and closed again.

"No alcohol in bed." she reminded him, when she saw the bottle in his hand. She had one rule.

"That goes for when we have sex. We're not having sex." he argued. "So I'm drinking." She eyed the half-full bottle and tried to remember how much he drank that night. He looked clear-headed enough but you never knew with him. "Or I can go back to my room."

It was a challenge she was happy to lose. She waved that idiotic suggestion away and scoot on the side so he would have enough space to lie down next to her. He did, regularly swallowing a mouthful of wine but more generally watching her work.

"This feels domestic." she mused at some point, she almost had an alternative schedule figured out but it was late and she was tired so she doubted they would have time for 'hot steamy sex' that night.

"Yeah." Haymitch snorted, bringing the bottle to his lips once more. "When did that happen again? We're getting old, sweetheart."

She smiled at him. "There could be worse things, you know."

"Than being domestic?" He threw an arm on his eyes to block out the light. "Like what? Swallowing a bucket of nails?"

"Than getting old together." She rolled her eyes. You could always count on Haymitch to ruin a romantic mood. She stared at her papers, careful not to even glance at him. There was no telling how he would react to that kind of declaration. She shouldn't have said anything, of course. Their relationship, by mutual tacit agreement, was never defined or analyzed. They just were for a few weeks a year. It was all they could ever be. Wanting more would be stupid. At the end of the day, she would always be from the Capitol and he would always belong in Twelve. That would never change.

So she was surprised because, when he spoke next, his voice was wistful and, maybe, even a little hopeful. "You never know, sweetheart. It may happen."


	39. Understanding

Prompt : Hello! Are you still taking prompts? If so, then I was wondering if you could do one where they're in District 13 & all the victors (ie. Finnick, Johanna, Annie, Peeta, Katniss, & the like) are all worried over Effie (since they just busted her out of prison) and Gale can't understand why. But then he sees how she's diff. especially with Haymitch & he ends up respecting her? You're amazing, by the way. Just thought I'd add that there X3

**And**

It made me want to see a second part where Effie is left in District 13 practically dead, beaten, n*** in there somethiing like the roses a a gift for Haymitch, it would be nice to see this in the Victors POV like this chapter and maybe Gale can recieve a punch in the face from a very angry Johanna cause he would really like to see Effie dead... (i wanted to hit Gale so bad)

_So I did a matchup of those two prompts because they were very similar. I also consider this very AU given that in my mind, Effie was freed after the Capitol was taken. I hope you like it!_

* * *

_**Understanding**_

Finnick followed just behind Johanna and Annie. They were running at full speed in Thirteen's corridors, not caring about who they were bumping into on the way. When they finally reached the surface, Gale, Haymitch and Plutarch were already waiting on the hovercrafts landing ground. Haymitch was pacing a few feet from the other two.

"Do we have news?" Annie asked Plutarch, more kindly than any of them could have done. "Is she alive?"

"Unfortunately." Gale grumbled.

Finnick took a preventive step to stand between Haymitch and him but Haymitch didn't seem to have heard. He was scanning the sky, clearly waiting for the hovercraft that was bringing Effie back to them. The rebels had attacked a detaining center earlier in the day. It hadn't been a total success, most of the Capitol soldiers had managed to escape with several prisoners but some had been left behind. From what Finnick had heard, it wasn't pretty. This was no victory for the rebels, the prisoners that they had managed to retrieve were all linked to someone in the rebellion in one way or another and in a critical shape when they weren't already dead. Finnick doubted that Haymitch had taken the news that Effie had been left for dead very well. It was a message for the rebels: their loved ones weren't safe.

"You shut up, Hawthorne." Johanna warned, pointing an accusing finger at Gale. "You just _shut_ _up_."

Effie wasn't Johanna's biggest fan by far and Johanna wasn't very fond of Effie either but the two of them both loved Haymitch in their own way and that was enough for a tentative truce to exist between the two of them. Johanna glanced worriedly at Haymitch who was still pacing, staring at the sky, a hand on his hair and the other rhythmically clenching at his side. Finnick thought the man probably could kill for alcohol right about then.

"Gale, please." Plutarch sighed.

"She's a _fucking_ escort. Who cares if she dies?" Gale shot back.

Johanna was on him before any of them could do anything. To be perfectly honest, Finnick only forced Johanna to move back by grasping her around the waist after the first blow because Annie was disturbed. She always was when she was faced with violence.

"You're insane!" Gale shouted, feeling his cheek where she had punched him.

"You want more?" Johanna taunted, struggling against Finnick.

"Stop that." he snapped. "We don't need that right now. Hawthorne, if you can't control yourself, go back inside. And you…" he shook Johanna to make his point. "… do you really think Haymitch wants to see that?" Haymitch, as a matter of fact, was seeing nothing but the clear sky. It was as if they were ghosts. He didn't acknowledge them and he was so obviously distressed Johanna's anger seem to deflate suddenly. Finnick let her go. "Play nicely." he instructed before wrapping an arm around Annie's shoulders to comfort her.

"Do you know if she's going to be alright?" Annie asked Plutarch. "How bad are her wounds?"

"They're all in bad shape." Plutarch answered darkly. "I don't know more than that."

"Trinket's tough." Johanna said, folding her arms. "She will make it."

"Yeah, she's tough." Finnick agreed, less convinced than he would have liked to be. She was tough but she also hadn't known pain or abuse before her incarceration, who could say how her body would have reacted to that?

Gale looked at them with bewilderment. "I don't understand. You're victors, she's an escort. _Why_ do you care? If I were you…"

"Don't finish that sentence and don't presume to know what we would think or do." Annie cut in with that sternness that had convinced Finnick long ago that she would make a great mother one day. "She's our friend."

Johanna winced but didn't correct her.

"She's a good woman." Plutarch added. "She didn't deserve that."

"And the kid she sent to their death did?" Gale snorted.

"She did what she could." Finnick snapped. "Everything's not black and white, there are shades of grey, boy."

The epithet came so easily to his lips it was weird. He was more used to be called a boy than to apply it to someone else but Gale looked very much the part right then. A child who fancied himself a soldier. Not much younger than him, but younger enough that Finnick knew what war was really like. Wars weren't always fought with guns and he had watched Effie battle with her conscience for years. She did her best for her tributes even when Haymitch couldn't be bothered, she tried to help, she wept when they died… She was a good person and she was Finnick's friend so he wasn't going to let him insult her in front of him.

"Once in, never out." Plutarch whispered. "That's what Gamemakers say. It goes for escorts too."

Gale didn't look convinced but he didn't comment either, so Finnick counted that as a win.

"Go to him." Annie nudged him towards Haymitch. "He needs a friend."

He kissed her brow softly and walked closer to Haymitch.

"She will be alright." he said, as soon as he was in earshot. It was a stupid promise because when did they ever get lucky ? And Haymitch must have known it too, he didn't stop pacing. "I bet the first thing she will do is scold you about your beard. When did you last see a razor, Haymitch?" It wasn't even a stubble anymore at that point. He didn't get an answer and his friend continued to walk hence and forth until Finnick caught his arm to stop him. "She is going to be _okay_." He tried to sound harsher, more convinced.

Haymitch's eye were glassy, unfocused, his mouth was pinched, he looked pale. Finnick realized with a startle jolt that it was the first time he had seen the man truly afraid.

"They said all prisoners were left for dead." Haymitch's voice was rough and cracking in despair. "Two died when they brought them on the hovercraft. They didn't seem very optimistic about the rest of them."

"Effie's different." Finnick swore. "She's a fighter."

"Is she?" Haymitch's chuckles were bitter. "Fighters always get the worst of it. She was there because of me. If she dies, it's on me."

Finnick squeezed his shoulder in a desperate attempt at comfort. He could hear the echo of Johanna and Gale's voice as they argued about people and shades of grey in the distance but Haymitch didn't seem to notice. Finnick got the impression that he wasn't noticing much, even him. They were talking but Haymitch's mind was miles away.

"No, it's not." Finnick lied, because it kind of was. Just like it was _his_ fault Annie had been dragged into this. "She wouldn't want you to think that."

"She…" Haymitch started only to fall silent when Annie's cry alerted everyone. She was pointing at a dark point in the blue sky.

It didn't take long for the hovercraft to land but for Haymitch it must have been like forever in a nutshell. Finnick stayed next to him when the doors opened and they started to take gurneys out. Medical teams swarmed the landing ground but they didn't see her anywhere.

"We lost two during the flight." the rescue mission leader told them. "A man and a woman."

Haymitch looked ready to collapse. Finnick didn't feel much better, he ran a hand on his face.

"I want to see her." Haymitch breathed out.

The rebel winced. "I don't know if it's such a good idea, sir. It wasn't pretty."

"I _want_ to see her." he growled.

"Haymitch!" Johanna appeared beside them suddenly and clutched his arm. "She's over there. She's conscious."

They ran to the other side of the landing field to a man in a white coat who was kneeling next to a gurney. Annie and Gale were standing a little on the side. Finnick stopped beside them but Haymitch almost threw himself at the ground in his haste.

"It's bad but she's alive."Annie whispered.

It _was_ bad indeed. Finnick wouldn't have recognized her. Gone were the wig, make-up and bright clothes. Her hair was dirty and cut short, she was so obviously starved her skin clang to her cheekbones and she was dressed in rags stained with blood. The medic was patching things up as urgently as he could but Finnick could tell she was losing blood.

"Effie." It was almost a whimper, Haymitch looked pained.

Her eyes fluttered opened.

"This is going to hurt." the medic commanded without lifting his eyes from the wound he was trying to dress so they could move her to the medical wing. "Distract her. Talk to her."

"Haymitch." Her voice was coarse but there was a ghost of a smile on her lips.

Finnick's hand found Annie's when Haymitch cautiously brushed Effie's hair off her face.

"Hey, sweetheart." Haymitch smiled with relief. "Gave me quite a scare, here."

"You know how I love to make an entrance." She bit her lip when the medic tightened the dressing.

"Yeah." Haymitch snorted but he kept petting her hair with a tenderness Finnick would never have suspected he could give. "Should have guessed."

Effie put her hand on his cheek clumsily, her arm didn't seem to work so well, Haymitch caught it and secured it against his face. Her eyes were full of tears.

"Are you real?" she whispered.

He pressed a soft kiss to the inside of her wrist. "Yes, princess. I'm real. You're safe."

Next to Finnick, Johanna cleared her throat. Finnick wondered if she was embarrassed or touched.

"I _missed_ you." Effie's voice cracked and, in seconds, her cheeks were wet with tears.

"I missed you too." Haymitch tried to wipe them away but there were too much of them. "We all did, right people? Look, everyone came to wait for you."

Finnick stepped around the medic so she could see him more easily. "Hello, beautiful."

Effie blinked twice and her hand left Haymitch's cheek to be outstretched to him. He took it and crouched next to her.

"Finnick…" She tried to squeezed his hand but she was too weak. "Annie? Is she…"

"She's right here." he reassured her. "She wanted to see you. Jo, too." The girls stepped into her sight and waved. "See? Everyone's safe."

"The children?" Effie asked. That question was directed at Haymitch who hesitated.

"They're good." he replied at last.

Her eyes closed so Finnick stroked her hand softly to remind her she wasn't supposed to sleep yet. The medic wasn't done.

"You?" She was clearly hurting because she was breathless.

Once again Haymitch hesitated. "I'm fine now you're here."

"Okay, we need to move her. You can see her after we're done with her." The medic said, signaling at two other soldiers to take the gurney. Finnick let go of her hand and stood slowly.

"_Haymitch_." She called out, in panic.

"I'm staying with her." Haymitch declared. The medic seemed about to protest and then took a good look at the man and shrugged.

Finnick watched the gurney hurry in the underground tunnels of District Thirteen with a huge feeling of relief. Effie would be alright.

"Well." Johanna joked. "She does like her exits too, after all."

"Should we follow them?" Annie asked.

"No." Finnick sighed. "Haymitch's with her. We will get to see her later."

He turned to them with a smile and noticed that Gale was still standing there. They stared at each other for a while until Gale nodded and walked away to offer his help. At last, Finnick thought, the boy understood.


	40. A While Lasts Forever

Prompt :) waaaay post mocking jay, Effie visits 12 and she and Haymitch get drunk one night and start showing each other their body scars from the rebellion/ games/ life... One thing leads to another and things get kissy naked steamy angsty hot ;D

_Hey people, just a small warning that I've decided to up the rating a bit. I don't really do smut per se but it's getting a bit mature in some of the prompts so I upgraded it to T. :)_

_**A while lasts forever**_

"The baby is beautiful." Effie sighed, a tad wistfully.

Haymitch grunted without any commitment. "It wails, it poops and it barfs." He shrugged. "But you and I have very different definition of what's beautiful, so… Whatever."

Effie sipped her wine slowly, watching him from her side of the couch. She had toed off her shoes and discarded her wig hours ago before curling up against the armrest closest to the fire, winters were cold in Twelve and this one wasn't any exception to that rule. She had come as soon as she could after Peeta's phone call, she had been so impatient to meet the new addition to the Mellark family… And the baby girl was truly beautiful despite Haymitch's opinion.

She kicked him gently in the thigh with her foot. "She's got you wrapped around her little finger, hasn't she?" She couldn't help her teasing smile. Haymitch was as taken with the baby as they all were, she could tell. He had pretended all day long not to care one bit but each time the baby had cried, he was the first to urge Katniss to do something about it. Peeta had to talk to him for half an hour before he relented to hold the baby but once she had been nestled in his arms, there had been no tacking her back. Effie thought it was sweet.

"Don't know what you're talking about." he grumbled, taking another mouthful of wine. He hadn't bothered with a glass, of course. He was drinking straight from the bottle. She had chided him for his poor manners but she didn't actually mind. She was used to see him drink like that, it seemed normal. Normal was good. Normal was a hard thing to get by since the rebellion.

"You are going to spoil her rotten." she predicted, holding out her glass to him.

"Hadn't you had enough? Since when do you drink that much?" He rolled his eyes but he still poured some of his wine into her glass. "You're going to give me a run for my money if you go on like that."

How much did she had to drink exactly? She couldn't tell. There were two empty bottles not counting the one he was clutching. He was drunk but not too much and, as to her, she was feeling that buzz that comes with the perfect amount of alcohol. She was relaxed. Once again, relaxing was good. Relaxing didn't happen that much either since the rebellion. Wine helped more often than not. She certainly developed a taste for it in the last few years.

"What happened to your hand?" he asked.

She instinctively brought her left hand closer to her chest and curled up tighter. The gash on her palm wasn't as terrible as it had been. It was mostly healed now but you could still see the reddish pink slithering line of the wound.

She fidgeted a little but shrugged. "Clumsy. I fell. Weren't you always claiming that I would break my neck with those heels?" The heels weren't to blame. Work was hard to come by and she had to move out of the fashionable neighborhood to a less glorious part of town, nobody wanted to employ a former escort, the Hunger Games and the once Capitol famous were things of the past. Working as a model was out of the question. Working in the medias as an hostess, despite Plutarch's best attempts, hadn't worked out either. She had tried to become an event-planner but that hadn't worked out either. So now she was working as a temp secretary wherever she found work, which wasn't as regularly as she would have liked. She lived in a neighborhood where people didn't always bother to carry their trash to the bins and, as a consequence, she had tripped over an old bike wheel when she was walking home one night. It really could have been worse than it had been. She had just nicked her hand and scratched her knees.

"Still waiting for that to happen, sweetheart." He didn't look particularly convinced and he was watching her with a little too much acuity for someone who had drunk as much as he had that night. "How are things in the Capitol? And don't give me the bullshit you fed the kids."

She swallowed her glass of wine in one go and motioned for him to refill it. He did but slowly, as if he was questioning her drinking habits which, really, was the kettle calling the pot black.

"It's late, Katniss and Peeta are going to wonder where I've disappeared. I should go." she said, but she didn't move. Peeta had offered her their guestroom and she had accepted, knowing that Haymitch wouldn't mind if she invited herself over at his house but also knowing he would never suggest it in the first place. Except that now that she was supposed to go back to Katniss and Peeta's and their happy family life… She was having second thoughts. She was happy for the children, she truly was, she loved them as if they were her own, but… It was somehow easier to be with Haymitch than it was to be with them. She didn't need to put up a show with Haymitch – and she probably didn't need to put up a show with the children either but she had always done so and it was probably better to let them think of her as their silly frivolous friend from the Capitol. Haymitch had seen through that front a long time ago.

"That bad?" There was a frown on his face and his mouth was pinched. How much did he know? How much insight did he have on her situation? She knew Plutarch was keeping an eye on her, he was the one finding her jobs more often than not. How much did he tell Haymitch?

"Are you spying on me?" She was careful to keep her voice light but she also made sure to let her annoyance show. "I don't like that."

"Yeah, well… _I_ don't like the idea of you living in a two-room apartment." he shrugged.

She flushed in embarrassment and put down her glass on the coffee table with a bang. "There are three rooms actually. Tell Plutarch to get his reports right."

"The bathroom doesn't count." Haymitch retorted. "A kitchen and a living-room. He said you don't even have a bed."

She slipped her feet in the worn-out heels she kept polishing so they looked new and started buckling the straps. "Not that it is any of your business, but I have a sofa-bed, thank you very much."

"Why didn't you call?" He put the bottle down. "You could have come here. You're always welcome here, you know that."

"You don't own a phone." she reminded him, struggling with the strap of her left shoe. It was beginning to loosen and it was hard to put on.

"The kids do." He waved her argument away.

"Katniss and Peeta don't need to know of my financial difficulties." she snapped. "And you are not going to tell them. I'm warning you." She stood up too quickly, forgetting for a while how much wine she had drunk, and the room spinned around her. "_Oh_."

Haymitch was on his feet in a matter of seconds, holding her forearms to steady her. "Easy." he said. "Sit down." She let him help her back down on the couch and didn't comment when he took off her shoes again, not even when he pulled too hard on the delicate straps. "I have a guestroom too, you know?" he mumbled. "I don't know why you needed to stay at the kids'."

She rested her head against the armrest and put her legs on his lap as soon as he had leaned back. "If you wanted me to stay here, you should have invited me, Haymitch."

"I've just told you you're always welcome, haven't I?" he pointed out, taking back his bottle. "_Now_. Victors still get their monthly allowances. I have more money than I care for, how much do you need?"

She closed her eyes in mortification because, for one tenuous flitting seconds, she was tempted to accept. "I don't want your money."

"You don't want my hospitality, you don't want my money…" His hand fell on her ankle and stayed there. "Is there anything you will take from me?"

She chuckled. "Your wine."

His mouth twitched but he still leaned in to grab her glass from the coffee table and handed it to her. "Go slow, though. Tipsy you, I know how to deal with. Drunk you is another territory entirely."

She shook her head in amusement. "Are you afraid I will try to take advantage of you, Haymitch?"

"See?" he snorted. "You're already spurting nonsense."

She studied him closely and then avoided his eyes, staring at the wine she was slowly twirling around in her glass. The light weight of his hand on her ankle was comforting. "Is it? Nonsense?" She was careful not to glance his way. She wasn't sure why she was throwing those things out there when whatever hypothetical potential spark between them had been buried still-born years ago.

When his thumb softly stroke the inside of her ankle she couldn't help a small shiver.

"Why won't you accept my help?" he asked. "_That's_ nonsense to me."

"I don't need your help, Haymitch." She took a sip of her glass, letting the heavy wine roll on her tongue. "I get by. Let it go."

"Plutarch said you refused a job as a model." he insisted. "Why? It's work. It never bothered you before."

She waited for the bitterness and the resentment but it didn't rise like it used to. She probably was too tired for that. Or maybe the alcohol was dulling the pain.

"Did he tell you that they wanted me because of what happened to me?" She didn't meet his eyes. She couldn't. "They didn't want my face, just my back."

"Why your back?" He was frowning, she could tell from his voice alone.

"Because of the scars." She forced a smile on her lips. It was easy. She had been smiling for years on a whim. Part of the job. "Plutarch's idea, actually. A campaign to convince nostalgic Capitol citizens of the pain Snow's dictatorship had caused."

His hand ran up to her knee and back to her ankle slowly, in an attempt at comfort. "Were you vexed because they didn't want your face or is it the scars the problem?"

He probably was only teasing but she couldn't help an annoyed movement. "I should go back to the children's."

"It's late." Haymitch pointed out. "You should stay here."

"It's three houses over." she replied with aggravation, but she didn't move. Wine was still buzzing in her system just enough that she felt good but not so much that she didn't feel in control. She kept staring at her glass, though. Her glass was safe.

"We all got scars, sweetheart." Her eyes shot up to meet his. He had a sad smile on his lips. "It's not necessarily a bad thing. Scars tell stories."

"I'd rather forget my stories." she confessed, finishing her glass of wine in one go. She didn't have to ask for a refill, he did it automatically. "Nothing good to remember."

"Scars aren't always bad." He pulled up his sleeve to show her his elbow. There was a patch of whiter skin there. "Fell from a tree when I was twelve. My brother never let me hear the end of it. He laughed for three days straight." He shrugged. "See? Good memory."

"Falling from a tree is a good memory for you?" she asked dubiously.

"Seeing my brother laugh is a good memory." He avoided her eyes. She didn't remember him even mentioning his brother when he wasn't too drunk to think coherently. She knew what had happened to his family. She had pieced it together from his nightmares and his drunk mutterings those nights she had helped him to bed. "Falling from the tree, not so much. Hurt like hell."

"I have one on my right knee." she said, on a whim. "I tripped on the stairs when I got my first heels. Mother was livid."

His hand ran up an inch higher than her knee and his thumb retrace the small scar there. It was tiny and insignificant. She didn't mind that one.

"Told you those heels would be the death of you one day." he joked, his grey eyes twinkling with pleasure at being right at her expense. "You mother probably thought you had gone and killed yourself."

"Oh, no…" Effie smiled at the memory. "She was mad because I bled all over my new dress and the carpet she had just gotten cleaned." Her smile widened a bit. "She was so mad she missed a step, tripped and clutched the butler who had rushed to help… He tried to held her back but she still fell back and he ended up with her wig in his hand. She was livid. Simply _livid_." And it had been glorious.

Haymitch didn't seem to get what was funny, though. Probably a Capitol thing, she thought. Her mother had always been so stiff and strict, seeing her fall on her bum, hair loose, had been a sight to behold.

"How old were you?" His hand covered her knee.

"Ten or maybe eleven." She couldn't remember.

"You put heels on at ten?" He sounded horrified.

"That's nothing." she laughed. "My first job as a model, I had to wear those shoes… Monstrosities. The straps clawed into my skin but I couldn't take them off before the photo shoot was over. Look, there's still a scar." She propped herself on the cushion to sit up and pointed at a fine line in the inside of her ankle. It was weird because the hand he had placed on her knee was trapped against her stomach but he didn't pull it away and she didn't comment on it. "Your turn."

"Is this a game, now?" Haymitch asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

He put the bottle of wine on the ground and slowly undid the first three buttons of his shirt before pulling the collar so she could see the oddly shape scar on his shoulder. "Remember that night Chaff and I fall into the mirrors of the Training Center main hall?"

She let her fingers reshape the scar. "I remember having to fetch you from the infirmary. I wasn't pleased."

"You're never pleased." he snorted, letting go of his shirt.

"You could have gotten seriously hurt and I was the one who had to apologize to everyone because you and Chaff were too drunk to care." she replied with sternness. "So, no, I wasn't pleased."

He searched her eyes for a few seconds and then squeezed her knee. "Your turn."

She hesitated but pushed her dress up a little on her thighs – much higher than decency allowed – noticing the tightening of his hand on her knee but not commenting on it. The next scar was a clear pink line that went down from her hip to her upper-thigh. It was one of the less ugly she got in the rebellion. When he touched it, his fingers were cautious and tentative.

"What happened?" he simply asked.

She took a sip from her glass. Wine and the gentle way he was caressing the scar helped her relax. "I tried to run when the Peacekeepers arrested me." She had never told him that. She wasn't sure even Plutarch knew that. It had been stupid, really, really stupid. When Katniss had shot that arrow, she had understood at once what it meant, especially for her. She didn't know where Haymitch was, Cinna and Portia were gone, she had panicked. The Peacekeepers had showed up before she could get out of the penthouse but she had still tried to escape them. "I fell on the coffee table. The glass broke." She hadn't fallen as much as they had pushed her but he didn't need to know that. "That one is not so bad." That one she could live with. That one was a proof she had tried to fight back.

His hand froze on her thigh. "Effie…"

"It's alright." She forced herself to smile.

He didn't look reassured though, his face darkened. His hand left her thigh to touch her lips softly. "Don't do that." There was a pleading tone in his voice. "You don't need to do that."

She caught his hand and put it back on her leg. "Your turn."

He watched her for a few seconds like he wanted to add something but in the end, he sighed and undid the last buttons of his shirt. "Take your pick." he shrugged, waving at his chest. "There's another one on my shoulder blade."

She had seen glimpses of them along the years but she had never actually _seen_ them. There was a rough scar on his collarbone and tiny little ones on his sternum but the worst of them was on his side. The flesh had been clearly torn apart and sewed on with urgency. Even after all those years, the scar was swollen and blatantly white against his olive skin. She didn't need to ask what had happened. She had seen it. "This is from your Games."

Her fingers hovered above the swollen one, not actually daring to touch, until he guided her hand to his skin. "I don't mind the scars. I could do without the memories that come with them, though."

His free hand twitched. He was itching to take back his bottle of wine, she knew. Perhaps that was what possessed her to do what she did next or perhaps she was just looking for an excuse. She folded her legs under her to have better access and then she leaned in to kiss the scar on his collarbone. He breathed in a hiss and instead of reaching for his bottle he captured a strand of her hair and coiled it around a finger. He wasn't unused to seeing her without her wig, she was wearing it less and less since the rebellion, but he still seemed transfixed by her hair every time. She kissed the tiny scar above his nipple and the small one under his plexus, she kissed the sharp v-like one on his ribs and then, at last, she kissed the one that had nearly been his downfall.

"Effie…"

It was four inches long and she kissed everyone of them. His breathing had quickened and his stomach was rippling under her lips.

"Any other scar I may kiss better?" she teased, pressing her lips against his shoulder.

His pupils were so dilated she had trouble discerning the grey of his eyes. It had been a long time since someone had looked at her with so much lust, _desire_. It made her feel powerful.

"There's another one on my thigh." he said. She knew a challenge when she heard one. She was already undoing his belt when his hands covered hers. "There's no coming back from that, sweetheart."

"This is called foreplay for a reason, Haymitch." she grinned. "I think not coming back is very much the whole point."

He looked taken aback by her straightforwardness but he adapted quickly, letting go of her hands and toeing off his shoes. By the time he got them off she had gotten rid of his belt and he lifted his hips to help her slip his pants down. The scar he was talking about wasn't hard to find, it was an ugly swollen scar that ran just from the rim of his boxer to the side of his knee. The scar wasn't the only thing that was swollen and it made her smile when she kissed his thigh softly.

"Okay, princess, I'm done playing." He pulled on her arm to make her sit up. She didn't get any other warning before his mouth was on hers but she reacted quickly, locking a hand behind his neck and passing a leg under his so she could straddle his lap. One of them moaned but she wouldn't have been able to tell who. He had a hand on her thigh, her dress somehow pulled around her hips, and the other one spread on the small of her back pressing her against his chest. "There's an unfair amount of nakedness on my part." he mumbled against her lips, rummaging around her back for the zipper. "Take that thing off."

And she froze.

He realized at once that the mood had changed. He tensed too, his hands came to rest on her hips and he licked his lips nervously. "If you want to… Just… Give me a minute…" He closed his eyes and breathed heavily through his nose, probably trying to get himself back under control.

"I'm sorry." she whispered, mortified. "It's… We don't need to stop. Just… I can't…" To her utmost shame her voice cracked. "My scars, they're ugly."

He relaxed slightly but she wasn't sure she liked the way he was looking at her now. It wasn't exactly pity but it wasn't exactly lust anymore either. "Sweetheart, do you think my scars are ugly? Do you care about them?"

She frowned. "No."

"Then why should I care about yours?" he sighed and played with her hair absent-mindedly. "Like I said, they tell your story, they don't define who you are."

She searched his eyes for the smallest hint of a lie but he was honest. He truly didn't care. She kissed him but didn't let him deepen the kiss. She got off his lap and sat next to him on the couch, turning her back to him and pulling her hair back on her shoulder.

He hesitated for a second before unzipping the dress but she let him pull it over her head, feeling anxious despite his reassurances. The latest man who had seen her that much naked since she had been scarred was her doctor and his gaze was always clinical. She didn't want a clinical gaze from Haymitch.

She couldn't help the shiver when he pressed his lips on the long scar that crossed her shoulder blade. He kissed every inches of it just like she had done and then he moved on to the one that started just under the clasp of her bra and ran to the small of her back. And then of course, he reverently kissed the worst one.

On the left side of her waist, right where the skin had been torn and melted away, it was as big as her hand. It had happened when the rebels had taken the detaining facility she had been kept in. The world had suddenly exploded and all she had known was pain. It could have been much worse. Some prisoner had been burned worse than she had. Some had died. The rebels hadn't cared or if they had, they had not showed it. They had lists of people they needed to get out, the other prisoners were rounded about into cells that had been untouched by the explosion, their fate left to later consideration, wounded or not. She had been so sure she was going to get thrown into another cell to bleed out to death, she had tried to crawl away through the wreckage but rebels had found her, of course. She had been hurt, starved and dehydrated. She wouldn't have gotten very far in any case. The man that had found her hadn't been unsympathetic, he had pitied her, she could tell even then, when he had asked her for her name, she had nearly started wailing in despair. She had known she wouldn't be on the list but she had told him anyway. It had been another soldier that had saved her. He had heard her and had told the other rebel she was to receive medical help and shipped back to Thirteen as fast as possible. _She's on Abernathy's list_, he had said and never had she heard sweeter words. She had wept then. Without shame nor restrain. She had never let herself dream he would save her, why would he? Like her captors had told her again and again, he hadn't been her friend, friends don't leave friends behind. But he hadn't forgotten her after all. He had saved her.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" he asked, pressing a soft kiss on the back of her neck.

"Yes." She leaned back against him, tilting her head to give him better access. "I have another one here." She guided his hand on her ribs, right under the cup of her bra. "Don't ask, please."

"Alright." He followed the shape of the scar with his fingers like she had done with his. "They're not ugly, you know. Do you know what they tell me?" She shook her head but didn't move to face him yet. She was afraid of what she would find in his eyes. "They tell me you're a damn strong woman who went through hell and came back. There's nothing ugly in that."

She buried her face in his neck, her throat choked up with tears. "Were you serious earlier? When you said I was welcome here?"

His Adam apple bobbled up and down. "Yeah. If you want to. We can drive each other mad and you can babysit for the kids. It gets boring around here when you're not there to annoy me to death, you know." He pressed a kiss to her hair. "Kind of lonely too."

"Maybe we could try." she suggested. "For a while."

His only answer was to kiss her again.

A while happened to last forever.


	41. In Red

Prompt : Can you do one where Portia is going to find something propper for Haymitch to wear for a party at the Capitol and she finds one photo of a young Haymitch and Effie on their first years as victor and scort hidden on his clothes and in the back there is a little caption that says "She looks beautiful in Red" and she makes sure Effie will look her best just for him and then Cinna and Her don't stop teasing him.

_**In Red**_

Cinna battled to make his way to Haymitch, the opening ceremony was even more crowded than usual because of the Quell. He found him sitting alone, three empty seats next to him. Cinna took one with relief.

"Katniss is ready." he said. "She knows what to do. Do you know where Portia is? I couldn't find her."

Haymitch nodded at a few rows of seats below. Cinna was fazed by his taciturn attitude, Effie had warned him that Haymitch hadn't had anything to drink for some time. The girls weren't hard to spot even in the colorful crowd, they were talking with a few men, Portia was wearing a turquoise long-sleeved dress of his design and Effie was sporting an exquisite red bubble-dress Portia had designed especially for her and she was wearing it very well. Cinna had half a mind to ask her to model for him.

"Effie looks good, don't you think?" he asked, innocently enough. Haymitch threw him a dark look but didn't offer any comment. "Red suits her."

"If you say so." Haymitch mumbled, looking dejected.

It wasn't long before Portia left Effie to her admirers and climbed up the rows of seat to them. She sat next to Cinna but immediately leaned in to talk to Haymitch. "Did you see Effie's dress? What do you think?"

Haymitch looked from Cinna to Portia and from Portia to Cinna with suspicion. "As ridiculous as usual." he said.

Far from being vexed, Portia's smile widened. Cinna reclined in his seat, ready to enjoy the show.

"Red is very much her color, isn't it?" she insisted. "Look at her, isn't she beautiful?"

Haymitch's eyes didn't stray from the stylist. "Effie always looks her best. What's this all about? Why are you so obsessed with her and red all of a sudden?"

"I don't know." Portia shrugged, mischief written all over her face. "Why are you?"

He frowned. "I am not."

"I designed that dress with you in mind, you know." Portia said with a smug smile.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, woman." Haymitch growled before looking at Cinna who raised his hands in defense. He didn't want to get involved in that.

Portia, though, wasn't about to back down so easily. She put her hand in Cinna's front pocket and rummaged around without asking for permission – she often used his pockets as surrogate given that her dresses never had ones and she often didn't bother to bring a purse. She found what she was looking for easily enough and handed back an old photograph with dog-eared corners. Cinna pretended to be fascinated by a bird eating crumbs on the row below them.

He had seen the photograph countless times because Portia thought it was cute. It was a photo of a younger Haymitch and Effie, first year as an escort for Effie probably. She was wearing an impressive red dress and Haymitch had inscribed on the back in unsteady letters that made Cinna think he had been drunk at the time: _beautiful in red_.

"Where did you find that?" Haymitch snatched the photo away angrily. "Who gave you permission to go through my things?"

"You did." she said smugly. "During Victory Tour. You said I could go into your closet to pick out your clothes."

Haymitch didn't look very impressed. "Does this look like clothes to you?"

"It looks like a crush to me, actually." She grinned. "So, what do you think?"

"I think you're nosy." he retorted, before pointing an accusing finger at Cinna. "And I thought _you_ were my friend."

Cinna couldn't help his smile. "I'm your friend. I made sure she didn't tell Effie."

"Neither of you are fun." Portia sighed before getting up and sauntering back down to where Effie was still talking to potential sponsors.

Haymitch was feigning disinterest but Cinna could tell he was keeping an eye on the stylist and the escort.

"She does look good in red, though." Haymitch relented, at last.


	42. Heartbreak in the Making

prompt : I love your characterisation of Finnick and Chaff. I also really like your take on their relationship with Effie. So here's a prompt: Finnick finds out that Effie's birthday is in the middle of the games. He feels bad at shouting at her and wants to make amends. So he enlists the help of begrudging Haymitch and Chaff to give her a intimate birthday party.

_**Heartbreak in the making **_

"Can't you just leave me _alone_?!" Finnick sighed, exasperated by Effie's incessant fussing. "Good grief, Effie, you're as bad as my own escort today!"

To his upmost horror, Effie's eyes filled with tears and she turned around and disappeared from the mentors lounge before he could even try to apologize.

"What was that?" Chaff asked, appearing at his elbow. Haymitch wasn't far behind, nursing a drink and a displeased frown.

"I don't know, she just…" Finnick shrugged, unable to put words on her uncharacteristic sensitivity. Usually, Effie was difficult to upset – not that he tried – because Haymitch had probably already thought of every insults he could and threw them at her head. "She's weird today, isn't she?"

"She's been weeping all day." Haymitch confirmed with fake detachment. "I heard her this morning and then she locked herself up in the bathroom for two good hours."

Finnick frowned, worried. "Is it because of your tributes?"

Twelve had no longer any tributes in the Games, as did Eleven. Four's boy was still alive but barely hanging on and Mags was in charge of him anyway. He had mentored the girl who had been killed a few hours earlier.

"Doubt it." Haymitch downed his glass in one go. "She had her cry after the bloodbath. It doesn't usually last that long."

"And aren't you even _a bit_ worried about her?" Finnick pressed, done with his friend's self-denial. Haymitch could tell himself he didn't care about Effie all he wanted, they all knew the truth.

"What do you want me to do about it?" Twelve's victor groaned.

"Well, I'm no expert in crying ladies but asking her what the matter was would have popped into my mind…" Chaff snorted. "Not smooth, Haymitch."

"Oh, come on!" Haymitch rolled his eyes. "It's the kid who makes her cry and _I'_m the one who has to do all the work?"

"She will confide in you." Finnick pointed out. "We're not as close."

Chaff made a face. "We're not close at all, thank you very much."

"Stop that." Haymitch warned him. "She doesn't need your crap today."

Finnick couldn't help his triumphing grin. "How come you're always so protective of her when she's not there to see it?"

Haymitch mumbled something about them being disillusioned but it took only another ten minutes to convince him to go and find out what the matter was. By the time he came back with answers, Four had lost its last tribute and Chaff was pouring Finnick glass after glass of an expensive wine that really should have been savored rather than downed in one go like they were doing.

"Ah, our fearless lover boy comes back at last!" Chaff guffawed. Haymitch glared at him before snatching the glass from Finnick's hand and slumping on one of the chair. "Was the mission a success? Did you find out what was upsetting our dear insufferable Trinket?"

"It's her birthday, she's turning thirty and she seems to think it's a catastrophe." he grunted.

Chaff frowned. "Why is that?"

"Because, apparently, now she's old and her life as a fashion icon is almost over." Haymitch made a face at the sweetness of the wine. He wasn't one for sweet things.

"Tell me you didn't laugh at her face." Finnick groaned, knowing his friend probably did. He didn't like the idea of Effie agonizing over something as stupid as her age. She was a beautiful woman, everybody would have been glad to tell her that.

"I did." Haymitch nodded while Chaff burst out laughing. "And then I told her she was stupid, is that good enough for you?"

Finnick puffed out in annoyance. "We have to cheer her up."

"_I_ don't have to do anything." Chaff countered, raising both his lump and his glass in the air. "Not my escort, not my problem."

"She's your friend and you will help." Finnick folded his arms and lifted an eyebrow in challenge.

Chaff didn't look impressed. "I'm not friends with escorts. That's Haymitch and you."

"Didn't she sign your release from the medical floor, last year? After you fell on the stairs?" Finnick leaned back in her seat, waiting for Chaff to relent.

"She did because Haymitch asked her to." Chaff winced. "Doesn't count."

She did because Eleven's escort was the most bitchy of all the escorts and she would never have gone down from the eleventh floor to fetch him nor would she have taken responsibility for him, Finnick knew. "You owe her."

"You kind of do." Haymitch agreed. "But I don't. So you both do what you want but I'm not helping."

"Do you have something better to do?" Finnick mocked.

"What do you want to do?" Chaff sighed, not letting time for Haymitch to answer. "How do cheer up an escort?"

"You throw her a surprise birthday party." Finnick grinned. "Haymitch, you're taking her out for the day. Take her shopping. Chaff and I will get everything ready."

Chaff's laugher was loud enough that several gazes turned their way. Finnick carefully hid his amusement at the horror struck look on Haymitch's face.

"Are you kidding me?" Haymitch asked. "I am _not_ taking her shopping. You're mad."

"Well… Use your imagination. Take her out for a drink." And maybe it would kill two birds with one stone… Cheer her up and make them face the unsaid things between them.

"Yeah." Chaff breathed out between two hiccups of laughter. "Buy her flowers and jewelry and then you can ask her to marry you. _That_ will cheer her up, I bet."

Finnick couldn't help his chuckles. "Kiss her goodnight."

"Are you two quite done?" Haymitch mumbled, downing his drink. "You sound like two pre-school girls."

Given that Haymitch looked like a boy who was pulling on Effie's ponytail to catch her attention, Finnick wasn't sure he could really throw the proverbial first stone.

In the end, it was quite easy to arrange. Lots of people loved Effie and were happy to come to a kind of improvised surprise party. Finnick's charms did the rest. With Chaff's begrudging help, everything went smoothly. By the time the elevator chimed on District Twelve floor, the penthouse was full of a few carefully selected guests, enough alcohol to accommodate everyone and more food than they would ever eat.

Effie seemed pleasantly surprised when they all jumped out of their hiding places with big smiles and congratulations on their lips. Of course, Finnick thought, it was a bit unfair that Haymitch got a kiss on the cheek for a surprise he hadn't neither planned nor organized but such was his fate. Haymitch didn't rectify her assumption that he had been the instigator of the party so Finnick held his tongue. Whatever made Effie happier, he guessed.

It was a good party, as far as Finnick was concerned. Everyone was having fun, everyone was dancing, even Chaff, and Effie was laughing from start to finish. She found him after a while.

"Are you hiding from me?" she asked, with her usual kind smile.

"Just waiting for my chance to dance with the birthday girl, that's all." Finnick held out his hand and she took it readily. They were twirling and laughing before too long, their dancing putting everyone else's to shame. "I'm sorry about earlier." he told her once their mad dancing had slowed down to a more easy pace. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"Given you went to all the trouble of throwing me a party, you're forgiven." she granted, a twinkle of mirth in her eyes.

"Did Haymitch tell you that?" he frowned.

"Haymitch couldn't keep a secret from me if he tried." Her grin was contagious. "But don't tell him that. I don't want to spook him."

Finnick winked at her. "I will take your secret to my grave." He glanced at Haymitch who was watching them with a gloom on his face. Making fun of Haymitch was one of his favorite hobbies when they were done with the Games. "How long do you think it's going to take him to march over here and claim you back?"

Effie stepped closer to him than propriety allowed but it was late and nobody was watching except for Haymitch. "Shall we endeavor to find out?"

He dipped her and kept her there a second too long on purpose. "I should kiss you." What was a kiss between friends? It wouldn't mean anything. There was no spark of desire between them, it was as platonic as it could be.

"Don't push your luck." she laughed.

He wasn't surprised, when they were both upright again, to feel a tapping on his shoulder. Finnick didn't even let Haymitch explain what he wanted, he handed him Effie's hand with a gracious theatrical bow. He joined Chaff by the bar and they were happy to watch them dance slowly for a while.

"Of all the women he could have chosen, he had to fall in love with a Capitol citizen." Chaff sighed, low enough that no one would hear. "An escort no less."

"I'm not sure any of us has a choice in those matters." Finnick shrugged, thinking of the girl waiting for him back home, broken and yet so sweet she had grown on him while he wasn't looking. "Effie's a good person."

"Yeah." Chaff granted, taking a sip of his wine. "But victors don't get happy ending, boy, and this… This is heartbreak in the making."


	43. Of Ribbons and Princesses

Prompt : I don't suppose, under the assumption that you're taking prompts, or at least fragments of prompts, that you'd do another post-Mockingjay one with a happy ending? That digs into the future of Haymitch, Effie, Katniss, and Peeta? Just with all of them? :D

_**And**_

prompt : I hope you don't mind, but can you try making one wherein Haymitch and Effie post mockingjay with a little toddler running around(their child)? :))

_**Of Ribbons and Princesses **_

"Orianna, no running in the house!" Effie called out from the kitchen where she was setting the table. The five years old little girl ran into the kitchen, obviously not listening to her mother's warnings, and immediately came to hide behind her legs.

"Shhhh." the girl instructed Effie, a finger pressed to her tiny lips.

Haymitch appeared on the threshold a few seconds later, breathless. She should have known. He was usually the first to break her rules. "Where's the little demon?" he asked, making a show of opening cupboards all over the kitchen. Effie smiled indulgently, watching him pretend not to hear the loud giggles. "Sweetheart, I think we lost the baby." he said at last, in a dramatic tone.

The giggles only increased and Oria leaned heavily against her legs, obviously in raptures over the trick she was playing on him.

"Well, I certainly hope not." Effie folded her arms, playing along. "What will Aunt Katniss and Uncle Peeta think when they get here with strawberry cake only to find out there's no one to eat it?"

Haymitch smirked. "I will eat the cake. All the cake. There won't be _any_ _crumb_ left."

"No!" Oria exclaimed, horrified. She stepped from behind Effie and shook her fingers at Haymitch like her mother always did when she was scolding her. "You can't eat _all the cake_, Daddy! It's _rude_!"

Haymitch rolled his eyes but couldn't hide his amusement. "Look what you did to my girl, Effie." he sighed, scooping the child up and tossing her easily on his shoulder which prompted even more laughter. "She's teaching me manners, now."

"With reasons." Effie pointed out, placing the last glass on the table. "You don't have any."

"Don't I?" he teased, wrapping an arm around her waist and bringing her close.

"Group hug!" the little girl shouted, squirming a little to be able to hug both her mother and her father at the same time. She was always so full of energy, Effie mused, stroking the small arm locked around her neck that was threatening to strangle her sooner rather than later.

"Alright." Effie said, pressing a kiss on Oria's cheek. "Enough hugging. They will be here in a matter of minutes, go wash your hands and, while you're at it, fetch the red ribbon from your room, your hair is all spiked up."

Oria pouted when Haymitch put her back on the ground. "Do I have to?" She gave him her best puppy eyes and Effie silently counted to three. Sure enough, at three, Haymitch looked at her with a pleading expression that rivaled their daughter's but Effie only lifted an eyebrow and he shrugged. "If Mommy says you do, you do, baby girl."

Oria wasn't pleased with that but she still headed up to her room, shuffling her feet.

"She says _jump_ and you ask _how high_." Effie teased, more or less seriously. Haymitch had been so insecure in the beginning that it was sweet to see how good a father he was, but she sometimes thought it a little unfair to be the only one insisting on some discipline.

"She gets bigger and bigger every day." Haymitch complained. "She will be eighteen soon and we will be _so_ old then, sweetheart."

She rolled her eyes, well used to his theatrics by now, and pecked his cheek on her way to the sink. "I don't think you should worry about that just yet."

The back door opened on Katniss and Peeta – who never bothered to knock – and Effie had barely time to greet them before the stomping sound of tiny feet barreled down the stairs.

"No running in the house!" Effie reminded Oria to no avail.

The red ribbon flew in the air when the little girl threw it at her father to rush to the very pregnant belly of Katniss. "Auntie!" Oria shrieked in delight. Katniss, for some reason, had always been very popular with Effie's daughter. Effie suspected it had much to do with the 'secret games' Haymitch and Katniss organized for her in the woods when Effie wasn't looking. Did they really think she didn't know they were teaching her daughter how to hunt and survive in the wild? She couldn't tell, it wasn't something they ever talked about. Effie wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea but so many bad things had happened to her, she knew those skills could help Oria someday, so… "Is the baby out yet? Can I play with him?"

"Not yet, kid." Katniss smiled, ruffling Oria's hair. The little girl was very busy pressing her ear against Katniss' stomach in hope of hearing the baby.

Effie and Haymitch exchanged a fond glance. She was so cute… If wasn't because she was her daughter but Effie really thought Orianna was the cutest child to ever walk the earth.

"Can I have a hug too or should I be jealous ?" Peeta teased, after wisely putting the cake away on the kitchen counter. Peeta obviously got his hug because it was no secret that, one day, when she was old enough, Oria intended to marry him regardless of Katniss and their unborn child. Haymitch had turned green when she had proudly stated as such one night during dinner. Effie found it very funny.

She took the ribbon from Haymitch before he lost it or, worse, fed it to his geese. "Come here, Oria."

The girl looked at what she was holding and made a face. "That's for princess! Princess are silly. I want a braid like Auntie."

"Prince_sses_ aren't silly." Effie chided her. "Who told you that?" She glared at Haymitch who wasn't even trying to hide his amusement.

"You can have a braid _and_ a ribbon." Katniss said, holding out her hand for the red strap of satin. "Come here." She sat on one of the kitchen chair with obvious relief and braided Oria's hair quickly and efficiently before securing it in place with the ribbon. "There, as pretty as a princess."

"_You_ don't have a ribbon." Oria pointed out, pulling on her new braid to admire it.

"Auntie isn't well-mannered enough to be a princess." Peeta said in a conspiratorial whisper.

"Auntie can still kick Uncle's butt, pregnant or not." Katniss retorted.

"Katniss, language." Effie scolded her. Really, she sometimes had the sensation she was living with a bunch of five years old instead of only one.

"See?" Peeta triumphed, pretending not to notice the glare his wife was sending his way.

"Daddy says Mommy is a princess and Mommy is very polite." Oria concurred seriously.

"Daddy says a lot of stupid things." Haymitch snorted.

"Truer words had never been spoken." Effie replied.

"How's your couch, Haymitch?" Katniss teased. "Because I think you're sleeping on it tonight."

"Nah." he smirked. "When Effie's angry, the whole neighborhood knows it."

"True enough." Peeta laughed.

Effie huffed but didn't lowered herself to answer. She watched them all as they continued to banter, her family. She loved them all so dearly: the children, her daughter and Haymitch. All safe and sound, all accounted for. She could never ask for anything else.


	44. Mine

prompt for you: Effie and Haymitch shared the bed few times since their first meeting, after several years of working togheter, however, one night after they've slept togheter, Haymitch realizes that to Effie it isn't just sex.

_**Mine **_

Haymitch jolted awake with a grunt and rubbed his face. He must have drifted off. Effie was nestled against him, still naked, half laying on top of his chest, her reddish blond curls spread on his shoulder. Her breathing was deep and regular, she probably fell asleep too. Dangerous business, that.

Her room was dark, the blinds were down. He could feel the light rocking of the train as it rushed to their next destination. District Nine or District Four, he had lost his geography somewhere between two bottles of wine and the growing belief that this Victory Tour wouldn't be enough to get Snow off their case. Effie had turned out to be a perfect distraction to his worries. They had fallen in bed together a few times over the years, after particular difficult Games or in moments of vulnerability when human touch was the only thing that would bring comfort. Victory Tour proved to be as stressful as it could have been and they had instinctively turned to each other to blow out some steam. Sex, Haymitch had come to learn, was as good a way as alcohol to forget for a short while.

Letting out a sigh, he tried to extract himself from under her weight without waking her. She didn't get enough sleep he knew, constantly worrying about schedules or the welcome they would get in the next district… He had barely lifted her arm to escape her embrace when she tightened her hold on him.

"No, stay…" she mumbled sleepily, against his shoulder. "It's cold, you're warm."

He froze, not expecting that kind of invite. He could count on one hand the number of times they had actually shared a bed – each of those had ended up with him screaming bloody murder in the throe of a nightmare. But in any case, it was really different to accidentally fall asleep in someone's bed or to purposely sleep there. If he stayed there… He didn't know why but it seemed like a sort of commitment to him and he didn't want nor needed any commitment. That was one thing he loved in this arrangement with Effie. She didn't expect more than sex from him.

On the other hand, it _was _pretty cold and he wasn't sure he fancied the walk back to his own room given that he would have to make sure nobody saw him going out of her room. Another thing he had always been adamant about and on which she had readily agreed : nobody should know. His reasons were simple enough, he didn't want to give the Capitol any possible pressure point. As for Effie's… He supposed she was ashamed of sleeping with District Twelve's drunkard.

He settled back down because, he reasoned, he would have time enough to get out unnoticed in the morning and it was freezing when you weren't under the covers. She snuggled against him with a contended sigh that made him frown. When had she gotten that cuddly? She usually left his room or pushed him out right after they were done. They didn't even kiss that much. As a matter of fact, that was another thing he could count on one hand : they hadn't kissed more than four times along the years. She always avoided it when he tried and she never instigated a kiss on her own. There had been the first time, before they had even slept together, when they had been at each other throat a tad too much and ready to kill each other. It was either throttling her or kissing her, Haymitch had chosen the less of two evils. Then, there had been the kiss after their sixth Games together, because she had been crying for their dead tributes and he hadn't know how else to stop her weeping that had begun to grate on his nerves. Of course, the victory kiss when Peeta and Katniss had won. And another one, that same night, after the victory party, in the elevator. That last one had been weird. Haymitch couldn't tell what had possessed him to kiss her. They had both been dead tired, barely able to stay awake and swaying on their feet. She had taken off her heels and they had been dangling from her hand, she had been leaning against the elevator wall, watching the floors number change on the small screen… He had felt a wave of tenderness for her because she had looked frail and sweet and… He had kissed her. It had seemed natural to do so. It was the first time a kiss hadn't led to sex and he didn't know what it meant.

"Cold." she complained, rummaging around for the covers. He could tell she was half-asleep so he secured the blankets around them more properly.

"Here you go, princess." He made sure she was warm enough before closing his eyes, he couldn't help but wonder what new catastrophe would be waiting for them the next day. This Victory Tour was bound to go to hell at some point.

"You called Portia 'princess' too earlier." she said, out of the blue. He didn't know how her mind worked when she was that sleepy but it sure wasn't as sharp as when she was awake.

"Yeah?" He couldn't remember. He probably did. Portia, just like Effie, was sometimes very affected. Making fun of that was his sole joy when dealing with Capitol citizen. "What of it?"

Her grip on his waist tightened, it was quick but Haymitch felt it nonetheless. "I don't like it."

_That_ made him open his eyes in shock. What was that about, now? "What?" That wasn't a very pertinent question but he was gradually falling asleep too and he thought it would be enough to convey his incomprehension.

"You call _me_ princess. Not her." Effie slurred, nuzzling his neck. He hissed slightly when she nibbled on his skin hard enough to leave a mark.

"Effie, careful." he warned. How would he explain that in the morning? She hummed softly in reply but stopped biting his neck to rest her head on his shoulder once more. He pondered on that strange command for a few seconds and then frowned. "Sweetheart, are you _jealous_?" He twisted his neck to see her face but her eyes were closed and she looked peaceful enough that he knew she wasn't fully there to begin with.

"Yes." she pressed a kiss against his skin. "_Mine_."

Her claiming him in that possessive tone shot straight to his groin but he put the lust aside quickly, too shocked to deal with that on top of everything else. _"What?_" Too loud. She startled and sat up, blinking fast. He could see realization dawning on her face and then horror.

"I…" she stammered, no trace of sleepiness left. "I think it would be best if you left now."

There was a flush creeping on her cheeks and spreading down to her neck – really embarrassed then, so probably also very honest in her assessment that he belonged to her. What the hell? Sex was sex. There had never been any misleading on his part about that. He had never promised her anything more. They had been on the same page, there. "Effie, you…"

"Go away, please, Haymitch." She draped herself in the covers to preserve a modesty she didn't have anymore. He had seen everything there was to see. "I don't want to hear it."

She laid back down, her back to him and did her best to ignore he was even there. He was very tempted to snatch his clothes from the floor and go away like she bade him but he sensed that if he were to do so, something would break between them. And he cared about her, he cared about their strange friendship, he didn't want to lose that.

"Effie." He thought he sounded reasonable enough. He placed a hand on her naked shoulder but took it back quickly when she shuddered under his touch. It wasn't the usual shiver or quiver. _This _wasn't good. "Are you afraid of me?" Something that felt like lead dropped in his stomach. She had every reason to be afraid of him, of course, he had a nasty temper and had taken it on her verbally more than once but… He had thought they had grown past that.

"Don't be preposterous." she sighed, glancing back. "I just don't want to hear the words. I already know what you are going to say."

"Good for you because I really don't." He sat up against the headboard and studied her. She was curled into a ball, eyes shut tight. "What do you mean I'm yours?"

"Nothing." she replied, too quickly.

"Liar." His accusation made her wince. "Talk to me, sweetheart."

"Are you dead set on humiliating me?" she snapped, sitting back to face him. Her flushed cheeks were crimson now and there were tears shining in her eyes but he couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or anger. Because, oh boy, was she angry… "Do you want me to spell it for you? Do you want me to say the words?"

"I would like you to be clear for once in your life, that's for sure!" he shouted back, forgetting for a second that the walls were thin. "But, don't worry, I'm not holding my breath on that."

It seemed to make her grow even more furious. She was scowling, trying – and failing – to keep the tears at bay. "How can you be _so_ _blind_?" she hissed. "How can you be so _thoughtless_?"

"Why everything must always be so _fucking_ complicated with you?!" He threw his arms in the air in frustration. "Why can't you just say what you want to say and be done with it? You are the most difficult woman I have ever…"

"I'm in love with you!" she cut in bitterly, effectively making him fall silent. "_I'm in love with you_, Haymitch. _A child_ would have noticed." She turned away from him then, snatching her dressing gown from a nearby chair. "Leave now. I don't need you to explain to me how stupid I am or why you could never love me back, because, believe me, I know it all." She got out of the bed and walked into the en-suite bathroom.

He was still sitting on the bed, gaping, when she closed the door softly. His heart was racing in his chest but he couldn't have pinpointed why exactly. Maybe because he was about to lose a relationship he actually cared about, regardless of the sex part. He could find sex elsewhere if he needed too, he would never find another person like Effie who accepted him for who he was with all his flaws. He climbed off the bed slowly and put his boxers back on. There was only two choices now leaving or staying. His first instinct would be to leave, to avoid a conversation that would be both painful and uncomfortable but… Effie was hurting and for some reason, he didn't like that. It made him _hurt_ to know she was probably crying.

The bathroom door opened easily, she hadn't bothered to lock it. She was standing in front of the sink, her hand clutching its sides, head bowed. She barely glanced at him. "_Please_, Haymitch, go away." she begged softly. "We don't have to discuss this. I don't expect anything from you. You're just as free as you were this morning. Just… Leave me alone, please. All I want is to shower and go to bed."

"It's two in the morning." he said. "It's late for a shower."

She chuckled but it was drained. "Is there a rule that says you can't shower at two in the morning?"

"You tell me, sweetheart, you're the one always spurting rules of etiquette." He stepped in and closed the door behind him before leaning against it. She sighed in annoyance but turned back to face him. She folded her arms but instead of looking stern, she looked as if she was hugging herself. It made him want to hug her instead, to make her obvious distress go away. "How can you be in love with me?" he blurted out instead. There was nothing to love. A lot of things to hate, perhaps, and quite a few to loathe, but love?

She looked pained, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. "Sometimes, I wish you could see yourself as I see you." she whispered. "Brave. Clever. Handsome too, when you're not completely drunk. Absolutely infuriating more often than not but you know how I love a challenge…"

His mouth felt parched. How long as this been going on? How long had she been… "You don't even let me kiss you." he pointed out, still trying to deny everything, still trying to convince himself it was all a joke… "Why would you…"

"Kissing is intimate." She turned her head away from him. "Kissing is for lovers. Sex is just… sex. It doesn't have to be personal."

_Sex was just sex._ "I feel like I should be insulted." he snorted but his heart wasn't in it. "Sweetheart…"

"It's alright, Haymitch." She passed a hand on her face warily. "It's fine."

But it was neither fine nor alright.

Kissing was intimate, she said. It made him think back to that kiss in the elevator. He had wanted to kiss her and he had done so without a second thought. It had felt natural to lean in and capture her mouth. It hadn't even grown heated or hungry it had just been… sweet and soothing. He liked kissing her. Her refusal to let him kiss her had always been a source of frustration to him.

"This isn't a good time for doomed love stories, princess." He crossed the small space between them slowly enough she could have gotten away if she had wanted to but she didn't bolt away, even when he took hold of her chin gently to make her look at him.

"Is there ever a good time?" Effie asked with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "It's really fine, Haymitch. I've never thought there was any chance of you reciprocating my feelings."

"That's stupid." He slid his hand behind her neck and stroke her cheek with his thumb slowly. "I'm going to kiss you, now." She frowned but he didn't give her time to change her mind about any of this. "It's going to be intimate and loving and one of us will no doubt regret this moment in the months to come because, mark my words, sweetheart, this will mean heartbreak." How could it not with Snow breathing down their neck? But Haymitch was selfish and he wanted to kiss her. He wanted _her_. So he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers, pushing her back slightly against the sink. He let her come to him this time around, he let her initiate the kiss. As far as kisses went, that one was by far the best he ever had. He would have been content with kissing her for awhile but as the kisses grew more lusting she was the one who steered him back to the bedroom and the unmade bed.

She took great pleasure in leaving hickeys on his chest, safe from exterior gazes, marking him as hers. "Mine." she growled against his lips again at some point. He didn't know what he found so hot in that simple word but god help him it made him see stars.

"Yours." he whispered against her skin not long after that. He had been for a long time, he just hadn't wanted to see it.


	45. Sparkles & Twinkles

prompt : Ive spent the past few hours watching funny videos on youtube about wisdom theet and I started thinking about what could happen if Effie was the one who has to go to the dentist to get her theet out and Haymitch has to take care of her, would you mind writing a OS?

_**Sparkles & Twinkles**_

"I like sparkles." she mumbled as they were about to ascend the slope to the victors village. Haymitch had never been more relieved to get home. "Twinkle. Shine. Shimmer. Glitter."

"Yeah, I get it, sweetheart." he sighed tiredly, tightening his hold on her shoulders. "Bite on your cotton, you're not supposed to talk."

Haymitch had half a mind to go back and kill that stupid dentist. Effie had sported a toothache for the past three days and when he had finally convinced her to go seek medical help – a real feat in itself because she was terrified by the mere idea of sitting there defenseless while someone rummaged into her mouth – that stupid doctor had decided that the tooth had to be taken out. Now, Haymitch hadn't see anything wrong with that plan at the time, he had held Effie's hand like the good husband he usually wasn't and had laughed his full when the anesthesia had kicked in and she had started to say stupid things. His laugh had died down when she had failed to come down from her high and when the dentist had said everything was perfectly normal and she should sleep it off at home. The hospital wasn't far from their house – nothing was far in Twelve – but walking home with a drugged woman was definitely not funny. She had refused to be carried so they were walking very – _very _– slowly. He had made sure to keep an arm around her shoulders, just in case, and she had an arm wrapped around his waist. They looked perfectly ridiculous, he was sure.

"Do _you_ like sparkles?" she asked, very seriously, even if her words were slurred. She couldn't really articulate with the cotton filling one of her cheek. "I'm sparkles. You like me. You like sparkles?"

"I love sparkles." Humoring her, he had come to learn, was the quicker way to get her to shut up. They were almost home, _almost_. He could see the rooftop of their house and he could even hear his geese honking in the distance. Almost, there, almost there… He would drop her on the couch, make sure she was comfortable and let her sleep until she was coherent again. He never thought he would have thought that but her drugged nonsense was getting old and he missed her usual prattle.

Of course, luck wasn't with Haymitch that day and they _had_ to meet Katniss as she came back from a hunt and headed home herself.

"Katniss!" Effie called out in pure glee. She tried to grab her but Haymitch held her back.

"What happened to Effie?!" the girl exclaimed in concern. "Haymitch, what did you do?" She looked ready to use that bow of hers on him which, really, was unfair. Why did the kid always take her side every time something happened?

"The _dentist_ happened to Effie." He said, in a bored voice. "_Bloody_ fraud that man." He should have kept her until she was back to normal.

"Oh." Katniss winced.

"Haymitch loves sparkles. Sparkly, twinkly sparkles." Effie piped in helpfully, her head rolled on his shoulder and she started giggling madly as if it was the best joke in the world. Katniss joined in her hilarity easily enough.

"Having fun, sweetheart?" He glared at the girl but it only made her laugh harder. "She's drugged, what's your excuse?"

"You loving sparkles?" Katniss stuttered between chuckles.

"You can't be sparkles, Katniss." Effie scolded abruptly, with a frown, all trace of mirth gone from her face. "I'm sparkles, Haymitch loves me."

"Of course he does." Katniss readily agreed.

Haymitch rolled his eyes. "Bite on your cotton, sweetheart." How many times had he said that that day? And how many times had he gotten ignored?

"You can be velvet." Effie generously granted. "Velvet's soft but rough."

"Yeah, Katniss." Haymitch smirked, a lot more amused now that the joke wasn't on him anymore. "Be velvet."

"You don't like velvet you like sparkles." Effie reminded him, patting his cheek patronizingly. "You're twinkling too…"

Of course, Katniss didn't need much more to start laughing again like there would be no tomorrow.

"What are you all doing in the street?" Peeta's voice rang out suddenly from behind them. He must have been on his way back from the bakery because there was still flour in his hair.

"Nothing." Haymitch snapped. "Effie and I were going back home."

"No, no, no!" Effie protested.

"Yes, yes, yes." he grumbled.

At the same time, Katniss, who was still cackling with all her heart, clutched Peeta's arm and waved at Haymitch and Effie. "Haymitch broke Effie." she explained. "And now, she's sparkles and Haymitch isn't allowed to like anything but sparkles because he's twinkling."

Peeta's mouth twitched but, to his credit, the boy only eyed him with something akin to pity or sympathy. "Do you need help getting her to the house?"

"I can handle her." he said.

"I bet." Katniss grinned. "I think I'm going to call you Twinkle from now on."

"I think I'm going to kill you before too long." Haymitch retorted, just as Effie escaped from his arm.

She stumbled to Peeta who caught her before she could fall or hurt herself, she wasn't really steady on her feet. "I should teach you to model." she decided, absolutely not caring about whose arms she was in, now. If it hadn't been completely silly to be jealous of Peeta, Haymitch might have been a tad concerned. "Important skill to have."

Katniss was having a blast.

"Not sure it's very important for a baker." Peeta pointed out, kindly.

Effie considered the point and waved it away. "Nonsense." she slurred. "Haymitch makes me model lingerie for him all the time."

Katniss coughed and looked slightly ill. Peeta seemed distinctly embarrassed. Haymitch refused to mind. He was a man and she was hot.

"First, you have to pout like this." She gripped Peeta's face and pressed his cheeks so that he had no choice but to pluck his lips in a grotesque fashion that had nothing to do with the proper expression she was sporting – and Haymitch stopped minding her leaning on Peeta so heavily because better the boy than him for that sort of trick. She winced though and let go of his face to rub her own cheek. Good, Haymitch thought, he didn't want to see her in pain but if feelings were returning to her teeth then maybe she would recover soon. But not soon enough to save Peeta a crash course on modeling. "Then, you have to move your hips like you're walking on a straight line." She pushed away from the boy and strutted away.

"Careful, sweetheart!" Haymitch warned, catching up with her quickly and grabbing her arm to steady her before she fell and injured herself.

She wobbled slightly from right to left and then looked up at him with glassy eyes. "Haymitch, I don't feel well."

"Let's go home." he suggested. "You can teach the kids all about modeling later."

She nodded, pressing a hand against her cheek. "It hurts."

"I know." He let out a sigh. "Come on, don't be stubborn. Let me carry you. It will be quicker."

"You're sure I can't help?" Peeta offered.

"Go practice your walking." Haymitch shot back. It was no trouble to carry Effie, she weighed practically nothing and it _was_ a lot quicker. By the time he put her on the couch, she was fast asleep.


	46. One for the Team

Hey, I have a prompt for you (it's kinda dark btw, so sorry haha) Haymitch finds out that during the games one year, Effie was soliciting herself to gamemakers etc. because she thought it might help twelve win. Thank you if you do this!

_**One for the team**_

Haymitch was banging cupboards open and close in the dining room in a desperate search for alcohol. The liquor cart had been moved from the living-room and he couldn't find a single bottle anywhere. He was almost relieved to hear the elevator chime and the familiar clicking sound of high heels.

"I found us a sponsor." Effie's voice rang out from the threshold of the room. "You need to sign this and…"

"You shouldn't have bothered." Haymitch cut her off, still rummaging through the cupboard. "We're out."

And it had been stupid to hope staying in the Games in the first place. The twelve years old had been clever, cleverer than most tributes he had been forced to mentor over the years, she had escaped the bloodbath and she had managed to hold on for two more days but…

"She's dead." Effie deduced, sounding dejected. He heard the sound of a pile of papers being thrown on a hard surface – the dining room table probably – but still he didn't turn around.

"Killed by the Careers pack." he confirmed before slamming another door close. "For Heaven's sake, Effie, where did you put the liquor?!" He opened the last cupboard but still didn't turn around to face her.

"I didn't touch it." She denied. "Ask an Avox. I am going to bed."

He turned around then, intended to tell her exactly how much he didn't believe her, but he stopped short. "What happened to you?" He crossed the room in three long strides and stood in front her, not daring to touch her but feeling very concerned. Her wig was crooked, her dress was riding higher on her thighs than usual and her make-up was slightly smudged. And that without mentioning the reddish marks in shape of fingers on her arms. "Sweetheart?" Fear and fury like he hadn't known in a long time swirled inside of him. "Did someone…"

"You had to choose tonight of all nights to be sober, didn't you?" she sighed with annoyance before heading out of the room.

He stepped into her path easily, a concerned frown on his face. "Effie, if anyone did anything…" He would stab them with his knife and make sure they die a long and painful death.

"Haymitch, nobody did anything I didn't consented to. I am fine." Effie hissed. "Now, please, step aside so I can go take a shower and forget any of this ever happened."

He didn't move, trying to puzzle everything together. He was always a fast thinker and when his eyes fell on the scattered papers on the table – promise of sponsoring – he got it. "You slept with a sponsor for money."

She turned her head away exactly like he had slapped her. "You don't speak like that to a lady, Haymitch. Where are your manners?"

"Ladies don't sell themselves like prostitutes." he snapped back, feeling angry and betrayed and not exactly knowing why.

Her eyes filled with tears but she refused to shed them. She lifted her chin and scorned at him. "And mentors aren't usually that _thick_." she retorted. "You might very well be the only one who doesn't know what being an escort entails. Did you ever wonder why we were called thus? Never heard of synonyms?"

She side-stepped him but he grabbed her arms and forced her to face him. "What do you mean?" He felt sick. He had missed something. Somewhere, somehow, he had missed something.

"I mean I am a _fucking_ escort, Haymitch!" That language coming from her was enough of a shock that he let go of her. "And literally at that."

She turned on her heels and disappeared down the hall. She didn't slam her bedroom door shut, of course she didn't. But he would have preferred it if she had because… the silence was deafening. He blindly searched for a chair and collapsed on it before running a hand over his face. _What the hell_? What the _bloody_ hell ? It was unfair. Unfair and terrible and… And he had just called her a prostitute to her face.

He was so angry he flung the papers in front of him to the other side of the room. He was tempted to look up the name of the sponsor and get down to the sponsor lounge to explain to him exactly why he would _never_ sponsor Twelve again – why none of them would _ever _sponsor Twelve again – but he knew this would end badly for Effie and him. He wasn't that much concerned about himself but Effie…

He should apologize, he supposed. He had insulted her and… But he never wanted to see her compelled to do something like that ever again. She shouldn't have to.

Liquor still eluded him when he went back to his quest for drinks but he did find her tea so he filled a cup awkwardly. He couldn't remember having drunk tea in his whole life, never mind making some. How long did you leave the tea bag? How hot should the water be? All in all, when he found himself in front of her door, a mug of scathing tea that didn't look as dark as it should be in his hand, he felt stupid .

He thought she would send him away but the door opened after he knocked. She was wearing satiny pajamas pants and an old tee-shirt – not something he would have ever pictured her with but it was a night of discoveries, it seemed – her face was bare of make-up, her eyes were reddish which made him think she had cried, and her hair was loose on her shoulder. She looked so human without her armor of colors and make-up he gaped a little.

"Have you come to insult me further?" she inquired, in a polite tone that barely hid her irritation.

He held out the mug to her. "Apologize, actually."

She eyed the tea suspiciously and then studied him for a few seconds before relaxing slightly and accepting the mug. "You, sober and apologizing." She let out a chuckle that sounded bitter to his ears. "Must be Christmas."

She went back into her room and sat cross-legged on her bed, careful not to spill her tea. She left the door open so he took that as an invitation and sat at the foot of her bed. He stared at the wardrobe in front of him because meeting her eyes, when she looked like that, would be too hard. "Only sponsors?" Because victors weren't sold only to sponsors even if money was the prime argument in this kind of business. There were politicians too, people who wanted a piece of fame, and Effie, despite being the escort of the poorer District, was very much famous. There were only twelve escorts after all.

"Gamemakers too." she sighed. "Everybody knows, Haymitch. That's how the Games are played every year."

"Victors don't know." he denied. Not all of them at least. Chaff and Mags would have told him. He couldn't imagine them condoning this much more than he was.

"I can assure you victors from One to Three know." she countered. "They're usually the ones arranging appointments for their escorts."

He grated his teeth. He wasn't surprised by that. Career Districts had their way and it wasn't the same than the rest of them. "Did anyone force you to do anything you didn't want to?" He could feel her eyes burning a hole in his neck with the strength of her staring but, still, he didn't look at her.

"It's my job." she replied softly. "I knew what I was signing for, if that's your question."

Then why sign at all? Did she enjoy it? Being sold to strangers for the night in exchange for a little money ? Was she that desperate to be rich? To be the escort of the winning District? Because he sure as hell hadn't enjoyed it when they had tried to force him to do that and Finnick was sure as hell not enjoying it now.

"Can you say no?" he asked. "If you don't want to sleep with them, can you say no?" Or would it mean unpleasant consequences like it would for a reluctant victor?

"I think so, yes." She seemed uncertain. "But that's not how the Games are played, Haymitch."

"Screw their Games!" he slammed his fist on the bed and met her eyes for the first time since he had entered her room. She looked pained and fragile and… "Screw their Games." he repeated, more softly. "You don't need to do that. I don't want you to do that."

"We will never get any sponsors." she whispered. "We will never get any favor. We will never win."

"We won't ever win anyway, sweetheart." he stated. "There's no winning with the Capitol."

She looked scared and her eyes darted from left to right, as if she was waiting for a squadron of Peacekeepers to swarm in. "Haymitch…"

"You don't do that anymore." he said again. "We have no chance to win. Every year, those kids… They're not fighters. We won't win. You doing _that_, it's pointless and I don't want you hurt for nothing." He held out his hand to her hesitantly but she took it. "You said victors from One, Two and Three dealt with their escorts, well… Let people know I'm in charge now. I will take the fall for you if people complain."

"You don't have to do that." Her voice cracked a little but she cleared her throat and squeezed his hand.

He squeezed back. "I very much do. We're a team, aren't we?" He couldn't help but snort. "A team of two is a little ridiculous, I grant you, but… we're a team, right?"

"Yes." She forced a smile on her lips. "We are a team."


	47. Guilt

Prompt: one night after either having too much to drink or a particularly horrid day it hits Effie that, in theory, she has contributed, aided, and supported the murder of thousands of children. Haymitch tries to comfort her (maybe even Cinna too) (perhaps saying she was brought up to believe it was right), but no one can make it any better, because it is true what she is saying. Idk make of this what you will c:

_**Guilt **_

"It's a bit more complicated than that, Haymitch." Cinna pointed out, before taking a sip of his glass of wine.

Effie did the same, aware they had all drunk a bit too much and that they were discussing things that would be better left for another place than the rocking train rushing to District Six. Portia had excused herself hours ago, as had Katniss and Peeta, but Effie had stayed, a silent witness to the growing heated debate between Haymitch and Cinna.

"How can it be more complicated?" Haymitch snorted. "Capitol citizens watch and enjoy the show and never, _ever_, think twice about it. They're as guilty as Snow, the Gamemakers or the escorts."

Cinna's eyes slid to her but Effie didn't even shiver.

"I think you're thinking too much in terms of black and white." Cinna said. "Try some grey, Haymitch."

"Try to send kids in an arena knowing they're going to be slaughtered in the first few minutes and then come back to me, Cinna." Haymitch snapped, downing his glass in one go and pouring himself another. He wasn't drinking wine but whiskey and Effie found herself yearning for the bitter taste rather than the sweetness of the wine.

"But you don't send children in the arena." she commented slowly. "I do." Haymitch's hands stilled, bottle and glass frozen in mid-air. "I pick them up, I give them food, I scold them for their lack of manners and then I send them on their merry way to die."

"And here's your shade of grey." Cinna sighed, with a pointed look for Haymitch. "Effie, I think you had too much to drink. Why don't I take you back to your room?"

"Why? Because I'm telling the truth and it bothers you?" she asked, putting her drink back on the coffee table. She stood up gracefully and walked to the liquor cart to get a cocktail glass. She wanted something stronger than wine. "Haymitch is right, Cinna. We're all guilty. I more than others." There was a collection of strong liquors, she chose the only untouched bottle of whiskey left. Haymitch's favorite poison. Well… He could share. She poured herself a drink slowly, her hands were shaking.

"That's not totally true." Cinna argued. "They raise you to believe this is right. Why would Capitol citizens think it's wrong? Why would _you_, Effie?"

She didn't dare turn around to face them. Haymitch's silence wasn't lost on her. "I think you're trying to comfort yourself with technicalities, Cinna, because it is easier than to accept the fact that you're friend with a monster." She smiled bitterly. _Monsters_… That's what most people called the inhabitants of the Districts: monsters, barbarians, savages… She had called them that too in her youth. Who were the real barbarians, she wondered, the ones who didn't possess the means to access better education or those – supposedly advanced – who took children to throw them in an arena? "Do you know how they call escorts in Three?"

"Effie…" Cinna begged but she still didn't turn around.

"Angels of death." She shrugged and took a mouthful of whiskey. It burned all the way down. "It's fitting I guess. We're beautiful and deadly." She giggled but it came out more like a sob. "You should design me a white dress, Cinna, with golden trim perhaps."

The sound of glass hitting the table and then there was a presence behind her. She thought it would be Cinna but the hands that rand down her arms in an attempt at comfort were familiar in a way Cinna's would never be. Haymitch took the glass from her and downed that one too before putting it back on the cart. She wanted to lean against him but she didn't dare. "I'm a monster." she said again.

"Don't be stupid, sweetheart." he huffed, forcing her to turn around to face him. "Monsters don't have remorse."

His grey eyes were pained and understanding but she didn't want his compassion. He should be angry with her. He should hate her like he hated every other Capitol citizen.

"I still killed all those children." She folded her arms protectively on her chest.

"And you regret it." He insisted. "That's the difference between you and them. You're no monster."

"Technicalities." Her voice cracked and he tried to hug her but she pushed him back. "You should be repelled by me. You should…"

"Don't tell me what I should be." Haymitch growled. "That's precisely the problem. You, Capitols, telling us, Districts, what to be and do." His face softened a bit. "When I look at you, I don't see a Capitol woman, I see _you_, Effie. You're not like them to me." On the couch, Cinna rolled his eyes, probably because it had been his point all along, she didn't see what he did next because Haymitch grabbed her chin gently and forced her to look at him. "You feel guilty? Good. That means you're human. That means there's hope for you yet. Do you let the guilt crush you ? No. You take it and you do something with it. You help me and the kids go through this Victory Tour from hell, and, then… Then we'll see when we get there."

She gripped his wrist and he released her face. "But I _killed_ them." She had never said that aloud before. The thought had crossed her mind, now and then, but she had never ever uttered those words aloud before that night. "I'm a _murderer_."

"We're all murderers." Haymitch shrugged. She shook her head. It didn't make it better. It didn't make it easier. "Come on, princess." His voice was pleading, like he was at a loss for what to say next. She took a step forward, invading his personal space. She didn't deserve his embrace but when he tried to wrap his arms around her shaking figure, this time she let him. She didn't deserve his embrace or his forgiveness but she took it anyway because she was selfish and, deep down, a monster. Nothing he said could assuage the guilt. Nothing would make it go away. That was something she would carry to her grave.


	48. Lies Sweet Lies

I think I might regret asking for this prompt but... at the end of Catching Fire, Effie begs Haymitch not to leave her behind, he obviously can't take her with him. Then when they rescue her, she makes him promise he won't leave her (again) and then... well he comes back to 12 with Katniss and Peeta... if you want you can end this in some kind of forgiving happy ending, or you can leave it like this...

_**Lies sweet lies**_

"You're leaving." Her whisper is breathless and a little frightened. Her hands are shaking, her heart is racing and she feels dizzy. She's standing there, on the doorstep of his room, and he barely glances back before putting things in a bag as quickly as he can. Clothes, bottles of liquors, mementos… It's in the dead of night and she was asleep when the noises woke her up. He isn't supposed to be in his room. He is supposed to be in the living-room watching the Games. It's his turn. But, of course, he's leaving. Something big is happening out there, she has seen the brewing storm in the Districts. She has seen the impact Katniss and Peeta have, she's not stupid. And that mockingjay dress… Cinna is nowhere to be found, Portia is desperate and Haymitch… Haymitch has been avoiding her questions since the Reaping.

"Not now, sweetheart." he says. "Go back to bed."

He zips the bag close, grabs his jacket and flings both of them over his shoulder.

"I can be ready in five minutes." she hears herself say. "Don't… Don't leave me behind." She's scared, terrified even. Cinna's gone. People are disappearing left and right. She hasn't been as careful as she ought to with her opinions, she knows she said things sometimes that made some people frown. And she's District Twelve's escort. They will catch her. They will… "_Please_, Haymitch. Take me with you."

He closes his eyes and lets the bag and the jacket slid to the ground before stepping closer. She's engulfed in his embrace but it isn't as comforting as it used to be. One of his hand tangles in her hair, his other arm is wrapped around her waist, she clings to his shirt for dear life. "I can't." he mumbles against her hair. "I'm sorry, Effie, I can't."

"_Please_." She isn't above begging at this point. She isn't above crawling on the ground to seek his protection. She can't get rid of this ominous feeling of foreboding since the Quarter Quell announcement. She's so sure it's going to end badly for her. She's so sure… "Don't leave me." The tears fall before she can even try to get them in check. "If you love me, don't leave me."

His mouth crashes on hers but she's irresponsive. She can't kiss him back, she's crying too hard and it feels too much like a goodbye. "You will be safe." he promises, but she won't. She knows she won't. "I made arrangements. You go home to your apartment first thing in the morning and you stay there, you hear me? They will come for you." He presses a kiss against her forehead, her cheek, her mouth but she can't stop crying. She feels like she will never see him again. She feels like… "I _can't_ take you with me now, Effie, it's too dangerous. I want you safe."

Safe is with him, she wants to say but the words remain stuck in her throat. They don't come out when he kisses her again, they don't come out when he lets go of her to grab his jacket and his bag, and they don't come out when he stops on the doorstep for a second. But he doesn't look back and she can't do anything but collapse on his bed and cry her eyes out.

She's not surprised when Peacekeepers swarm in before the night is through. She doesn't even try to resist when they arrest her. It's odd, though, how the words she couldn't tell Haymitch when he left seem to be permanently stuck in her throat. It's like she won't be able to say anything until those words have come out. But they won't, they won't ever come out because she's so sure, deep down, that she will never see him again…

Her questioners aren't pleased with her silence. They try to reason with her, to bargain with her, to beat the answers they seek and she doesn't know out of her… They get creative and she withdraws even more. She screams a lot but she doesn't actually form words. She can't. By the time they bring Peeta in, she has lost all notion of time or place. She isn't sure she could speak even if she wanted to, and she very much wants to at that point because they use her to teach the drugged boy Katniss is a mutt, a monster the rebels are using. They tell Peeta she knew everything, that she was working with Haymitch all along to get Katniss to the rebels, and by the time they're done, Peeta looks at her with hatred and loathing and when they finally let him alone with her, he tries to kill her. Still, the words do not come. She doesn't beg for his mercy, she doesn't try to tell him it's all lies, she just lays there and waits for the blows to stop, for his hands to stop strangling her. She feels dead. She feels empty. She wants to go back in time when life was an easy and frivolous thing. She wants to go back in time when she wasn't in love with someone who left her behind.

They try to make her hate Haymitch, to tell her he abandoned her so there's no reason for her to be loyal to him. They tell her he used her. They tell her he only fucked her – they say _fucked _ and she bristles a little because it isn't like that, it was never like that, it was passionate and often loving and it never was a mere sexual affair, even in the beginning – because he was manipulating her. They tell her he slept with hundreds of women when he was with her. They tell her he was sleeping with Katniss and Johanna and every woman she has ever been friends with. They tell her he doesn't love her and that one hurt, it hurt a lot, so they tell her again and again until she more or less believes it because she has begged him not to leave her if he loved her and he did so… They tell her President Snow knows she was confused and how foolish you can be when you're in love. They tell her he would grant her a pardon if she helps them. They tell her Haymitch is dead. They tell her Haymitch is being tortured right now and they would stop if only she would tell them what she knows.

But she knows nothing and she has nothing to tell.

They get bored with her.

One day, they don't show up to torture her and they seem to forget about her. It's worse in a way because she's utterly alone now. She should hate Haymitch, she thinks, and she does a little but not all the way because she loves him. Love is weird. You can never get rid of it even when it's a poison running through your veins. And her love for Haymitch is very much venomous.

They forget about her and months pass. They feed her once a day and that's how she counts the days, the weeks… No one talks to her, no one even looks at her. She begins to forget. Small things at first but important ones, like the smell of rain or fresh baked bread, the exact shade of pink of her favorite wig, the sound of her own voice… And then, it's like someone's digging holes in her memories. She forgets her parent's faces, her friends'… Haymitch's is the last to go but it's the absolute worst because one morning she wakes up and she doesn't remember. She tries to. She knows he has grey eyes and she knows the shape of his mouth by heart but… she can't picture it. Soon, the four walls of her cell is all she knows. The small crack on the ceiling by the door, the faded white of the sink and the toilet, the pungent smell of her body as it slowly rots away in its own filth.

When the door finally opens after months of captivity, the corridor lights are too bright and the soldier on the doorstep – not a Peacekeeper, because he's wearing all black – is too loud. She shrinks back in the corner of her cell and begins to rock, wishing for the people entering her cell to go away, to leave her alone.

One of them keeps asking her if she's a trinket but she doesn't even know what it means anymore.

She struggles when they grip her arms but she doesn't manage to escape and then one of them plunges a syringe in her shoulder and everything fades to black.

She's in a hospital room when she wakes up and someone is half slumped on her bed, almost falling off their chair. It's a man and she can't see his face but the dirty blond hair is familiar. She runs her fingers through the strands wearily. He shoots up immediately, his grey eyes surveying the whole room in fear before falling on her. Her own eyes are burning with tears because it's all coming back now. His face. How could she forget his face? The hatred and the love come back too, swirling inside of her like a fiery flood.

And the words, the words that have been stuck in her throat all this time, she finally manages to swallow them because they're dead. They don't mean anything anymore. Safe isn't with him. Nowhere is safe. And _he_ definitely can't keep her safe. He left her to rot.

"Sweetheart." he breathes out, but she turns her head the other way. She doesn't want to see him. She doesn't want to talk to him. She doesn't want to think about him. "Do you want me to go?" he sounds resigned, like he was expecting that kind of reaction.

She does want him to go away. Forever.

Her hand blindly grips his wrist to keep him where he is.

She doesn't want him to leave her again. Ever.

How she is going to live with this constant paradox, she doesn't know.

She learns to. Day after day, she learns to. She believes him when he tells her he's sorry and that it wasn't supposed to happen that way. She should have had enough time to get back to her apartment but Katniss had taken down the force field and everything went quicker than they had planned. She believes him when he says he looked for her everywhere and tried to get her out. She believes him when he says he regrets not taking her with him. She believes him less when he says everything will be alright. She doesn't believe him at all when she makes him promise to never leave her again.

She starts to talk again. It's quicker to learn how to use her voice again than to give strength back to her body. She still doesn't talk much, to Haymitch's growing despair. He tries to induce her in her usual chatter but she's just not interested. He's told her what happened to the children but when she asks if she can see them, it becomes clear to her that he hasn't told her everything. The war is over but not for her it seems. President Coin is out for her blood which he has carefully forgotten to mention. She's the only escort left alive, apparently. Just like Plutarch is the last Gamemaker. Except, she doesn't have the political weight Plutarch has and it's taking both his influence and Haymitch's to keep her alive. Her hospital room is nothing more than a nicer cell than the one she was in before the rebels rescued her.

Her only visitors are Haymitch and, occasionally, Plutarch, yet, she isn't surprised when President Coin herself shows up one day. Their discussion is short and mostly a blur for Effie. Coin threatens her more or less subtly but she's used to threats by now and she doesn't even flinch when Coin tells her it'd reflect badly on her new presidency to give special favor to an escort because a former victor is enamored with her when all the other ones have been executed. She understands what Coin is not saying: Haymitch won't save her. She accepts to help Katniss get ready for Snow's execution anyway.

She doesn't tell Haymitch about Coin. It's not that she doesn't trust Haymitch but, rather, that she doesn't like the fact that he's deciding for her. He wants to protect her, she gets that, but last time he failed and she just can't get past that yet.

They bring her a dress, leather heels and a wig that looks just like her last one, all golden and curly. She used to find all that beautiful but she can't see the beauty anymore. When she slips everything on, it feels wrong. The clothes are perfect, like they had been designed with her in mind. They suit her even with all the weight she lost but… It feels wrong. She looks in the mirror and Effie Trinket, escort, is looking back. She isn't that woman anymore.

Katniss is as broken as she is, it seems, but Effie makes sure nobody sees the crack under the mask. Or she tries anyway. Acting happy is hard but easier than actually _being_ happy. When she's ordered to take Katniss to a meeting of some sort, just before the execution, she can see Haymitch is not pleased to see her there. She hasn't told him about Coin asking her to take care of Katniss and he clearly wasn't aware. He doesn't say anything though, not in front of so many people, never in front of so many people. It makes her think back to what her captors said to her, if he loves her so much why all the secrets?

Of course, that kind of considerations must wait because the next thing she knows, Katniss once again disrupts the game. Coin and Snow dead, there is a power vacuum to fill. Haymitch and Plutarch both support Paylor, they don't say anything but Effie knows she must have been part of the bargain because she's suddenly allowed to leave.

She goes back to her apartment, half-surprised to see it's still standing. The Capitol, that beautiful city she used to love so much, is mostly destroyed. It disturbs her that she can't see beauty in clothes and wigs anymore when she can so distinctly find some sort of poetic beauty in a collapsed building.

Everything in her flat is turned upside down. Peacekeepers, looters or rebels, she doesn't know and she doesn't particularly care. She starts cleaning because it's something to do. She has cleared out most of the living-room when she feels a presence behind her. Haymitch is leaning against the wall, watching her.

"You should lock the door, sweetheart." he says, before pulling up his sleeves and starting to help her. "We need to talk."

How she hates those words.

"No, we don't." She shrugs. It is rude but she doesn't care about that anymore and she isn't in the mood to put on a show. "You're going back to Twelve." He doesn't need to tell her, it's written on his face.

"They won't let Katniss go otherwise." Haymitch explains, defensively. "I'm her mentor, they will accept to release her in my custody but…"

"She always comes before me, doesn't she?" She chuckles bitterly because she isn't even jealous. How could she? She loves the girl too. "Your precious Mockingjay."

"You're being unfair." he snaps.

"Am I?" she muses, throwing a clutter of broken trinkets in a trash bag.

"Tell me to stay and I'm staying." Haymitch barks.

"I already asked you to stay, you left." She swipes up a handful of broken crystal, not caring about the way the pieces nick her skin. She doesn't fear blood like she used to.

"I told you…"

She doesn't give him time to finish that sentence. She's not interested in hearing more excuses. "I forgave you." She's careful not to look at him. "But you promised me not to leave me behind again, Haymitch, and I won't forgive twice."

"I don't have to leave you behind." He touches her shoulder wearily but she avoids his touch just like she has always done since she has woken up in that hospital room. It's not just him, it's everyone. She doesn't want people touching her or invading her space. She needs her space. "Effie, can't you see it's different?"

"No, I can't." She wishes he would leave now, leave her alone to cry or to scream or to sit silently in a corner and pretend it is all a bad dream. She doesn't know how to move forward. She doesn't know how to forget or accept…

"Come with us." There's a pleading note in his voice. "Come with _me_."

"To Twelve?" She lets out a round of laughter. She doesn't mean for it to ring out as cruel as it does but it's too late to take it back. He's hurt, she can see it, but she doesn't know how to make it right, how to explain it's not an insult but that the very idea is ridiculous. "There's no place for me in Twelve."

"Yeah…" His eyes don't meet hers. "Well, I'm not sure there's a place for me in the Capitol, princess."

"To be perfectly honest, I am not sure there ever was a place for us anywhere, Haymitch." she says slowly. "If you leave…"

"I think I am." he cuts her off. "Leaving. I can't let the girl down."

"God forbids." She jokes. "Twenty-four sets of tributes, forty-eight tributes in all and it takes Katniss Everdeen to bring you out of your broken shell. Why is that?"

"She gave me hope." Haymitch sighs. "She gave us all hope. Sweetheart, tell me you're not jealous of a seventeen years old girl because…"

"What did _I_ give you?" she asks, very plainly. Because she sure as hell didn't give him hope. "How long have we been dancing that dance, Haymitch? Six or seven years? What did I give you?"

He shrugs. "Love. Comfort. I don't know, it's different." He waves her argument away. "I want you with me, Effie, you know that."

"I'm not leaving the Capitol." she states. She could actually. It's not like she has anything left there. But, somehow, it seems important to make a stand. He promised her not to leave her again and he is doing exactly that less than three weeks later. Asking her to come along isn't staying and she wants him to stay for her. He wouldn't be happy in the Capitol but maybe she wants him to be a little unhappy for her sake for a short while. Maybe that's her way of punishing him. Maybe… "And you're taking Katniss back to Twelve regardless of what I have to say on the issue. You didn't come here to ask my opinion or even discuss the possibility of going away, you came here to inform me that I'm free to say goodbye or come with you." He winces, probably because what she's saying is true. "This is an ultimatum and I won't stand for it, so give me leave to offer my own ultimatum: either you stay here with me and you put me first for once or we're done."

"Don't ask me that." Haymitch begs, running a hand on his face. "They won't release Katniss, they will…"

"You said you would stay if I asked you." she reminds him, but it's no use, she knows. He has already made up his mind. He's a good man, her Haymitch, despite all his flaws. He won't put Katniss' potential freedom in jeopardy because she's throwing a tantrum. She kind of wishes he would, but she knows he won't. All he has to do, really, is saying he would stay and then she would relent. If only he would say yes… She would go with them to Twelve. She just wants to know she comes first, she just wants…

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." His mouth is pinched. She suppresses the urge to kiss the pain away. They haven't kissed since the day he left. A shame too because that caricature of a kiss was lame and probably one of her worst memory of them. She could remember a hundred better kisses than that one. "The girl needs me."

"And I don't?" she retorts, turning her back on him to throw more things into the trash bag. Her hand is bleeding where the crystal pieces have broken her skin but she can't even see the scratches, her sight is blurred by the tears she refuses to shed.

"No, you don't." he sighs. "You think you do, but you don't."

And that is where he's so wrong. She does. She can pretend to be strong and independent all day long and she is mostly, but at the end of the day, she wants arms to wrap around her and a body to lean against. She wants kisses and banter and bickering because the best part about them is the way they always clash against each other.

"I want you to leave now, Haymitch." she requests quietly.

She's prepared for some more pleading, because he's like a child sometimes or a dog who doesn't know when to let go of his toy but she feels the ghost of a hand on her shoulder and a kiss being pressed on the side of her neck. She shivers but she doesn't complain because as much as he is invading her space, she also knows it's probably the last time. "My door is always open for you." he whispers and she can hear _the_ _pain_ there and it's… "Tomorrow, in a month or in a year… I can wait."

"Don't." she warns him. "I'm not coming."

"I don't believe you." He presses another kiss against her skin. "You love me."

He has never said it back. Perhaps that is part of the problem, that inability of his to express his feelings. She knows everything there is to know about his family and his girlfriend. She knows how he thinks love is a weakness.

She hoped to be something more to him than that.

"Love is for children." she bites her lower lip to keep herself from crying. "Goodbye."

He doesn't say goodbye. He doesn't say anything else when he closes the front door behind him. There are no words stuck in her throat this time but it doesn't mean she doesn't feel like she's suffocating. She's literally gasping for air and she collapses on the dusty couch to keep herself from running after him.

It should feel different, she muses. Leaving someone should feel different from being the one left behind. But it doesn't. It's every bit as painful and agonizing.

And, in the end, leaving or being left, you are just as alone.


	49. Volunteer

There's no prompt for this one, it just came through my head and I had to write it down and then I didn't want to go to the trouble of publishing a new story on ff for 900 words so this is a Catching Fire AU where Haymitch volunteered for Peeta. They're on the train and you have to read to know what happens next ^^

_**Volunteer**_

"You volunteered."

Effie's voice was soft after Peeta's angry yells. Haymitch had almost forgotten she was there. He sighed and stopped looking at the door the kids had just disappeared through to look at her, getting ready for round two.

Her blue eyes were wide with fright, probably from when his argument with Peeta had gotten a bit physical, she was clutching the back of the couch with two hands, using the piece of furniture as a barricade between them. Or a shield, perhaps.

"You volunteered." she said again. The words were rushed quickly together, her Capitol accent getting stronger by the second. "You volunteered, Haymitch."

"Yeah, Princess, I think I know that." He rolled his eyes and went straight for the liquor cart but a cushion hit him behind the head before he could even reach it. He turned around and flung his arms wide. "Really? I can't even get a drink first?"

"You _volunteered_." she shrieked. "You…"

"Volunteered, _yes_." He cut her off. "Get a bloody grip, Effie, you're like a broken record over there."

"A broken…" she stuttered. "You volunteered, _you_ _stupid_…" He didn't have time to step back before she was on him, barreling on his chest with her small fists. He had never seen her so angry. "You _stupid_ man!" she yelled. "You stupid, _stupid_ man!" It was cute the way she was trying to hurt him when the strongest of her blow wouldn't even leave a bruise. "You stupid…" She broke down in sobs and the smirk disappeared from his face. "_Haymitch_…" He wrapped his arms around her and she hugged back immediately. "You _volunteered_! How could you… How could you volunteer…"

"It's okay, sweetheart." he promised, pressing a kiss to her brow. "Everything is going to be just fine."

She slapped him. And _that_ did hurt. "You're going to die." she hissed through her tears. "You're going to die in that arena so tell me, tell me, Haymitch, how _exactly_ is it going to be just fine?" She moved to slap him again but he grabbed her wrist. She didn't even try to struggle free. "You're going to die. You're going to…"

"Would you stop saying that?!" he snapped.

"You. _Volunteered_." she retorted. The nails of her left hand were digging painfully in his shoulder. "Haymitch…"

She was in complete hysterics, he realized. She was panting for breath and her eyes kept darting left and right in panic. He should have slapped her but he didn't like raising a hand on a woman and there was another way to shock some sense into her. He locked a hand behind her neck and kissed her. As far as first kisses went, that one was catastrophic. She was irresponsive and she started to really weep and he didn't know what to say to make everything better.

He gripped her chin gently and forced her to meet his eyes.

"Sweetheart, did I ever do something without a good reason?" he asked. After a few seconds, she shook her head. "What do I always have? Don't say it. Just… Think about it." He didn't want to take the chance of someone listening to them. He was sure the train and their apartment in the Capitol was bugged.

He saw the moment she finally got it. There was a flash of relief as comprehension dawned on her face. What was the thing Haymitch always had? A plan. He always, always had a plan. And she knew that because she knew it.

"You're coming back to me." she whispered, closing her eyes.

It wasn't exactly how he would have put it but he shrugged anyway, unable to suppress a snort. "Such concern, Princess. Careful or one would think you cared." He wasn't entirely joking. It would probably be best if no one knew they were actually friends.

"Care?" She forced a smile on her lips and wiped the tears away. "Don't be preposterous. I just spent six years training you, I don't want to start all over again with someone else."

He put a mislaid strand of synthetic gold back into the tangle of hair that was her wig. "You're alright now?" She nodded but it was small and unconvinced. "Lie better than that." he requested, softly. "The kids can't see you like that. I'm a tribute now, it's Peeta's first year as a mentor and there won't be anyone to show him the ropes, everything will fall on your shoulders." They were standing so close he could almost count every of her fake eyelashes. "I'm sorry, Effie, you're on your own this year."

"I will manage." She smoothed the creases of his shirt absent-mindedly and leaned against him a little, her voice got lower which made him think that she was also aware of the possibility of bugs. "But only for this year, Haymitch. You're coming back to me, I don't care how or who you have to kill to get out, you're getting out. Promise me."

Did she know what she was asking? What about Katniss? What about those of their friends who had been reaped ? What if Finnick was in the midst of them? Or Chaff? Cecelia ?

"This year only." he promised anyway.

If everything went according to plan, there wouldn't be any Hunger Games the next year.


	50. The Grand Scheme of Things

Hello! I've been reading your Hayffie prompts in AO3! You're an amazing writer! THANK YOU SO MUCH! I have a request for you: some kind of angst past lives AU where Haymitch meets Effie past time but love between them cannot come true until THG, and Haytmich is like "this is it! I'm gonna go for it and protect her with all I got" and then rebellion occurs and the Capitol takes Effie! That'll be so new and great to do! Thank you!

_**The Grand Scheme of Things **_

_They are no one in the grand scheme of things. They are never Kings and Queens or Imperators and Impresses or Presidents or something as equally grand. They're always faces in a crowd of ordinary people. They never make history. Sometimes, he's a boy and she's a girl. Sometimes, he's a man and she's a woman. Sometimes, he's old and she's too. Sometimes it's a combination of those. _

_They are no one in the grand scheme of things but they are everything to each other. Always. They find each other and they lose each other and they find each other again. That's how it has always been and that is how it should always be. _

The first time he meets her, he's not Haymitch and she's not Effie, Panem isn't yet called Panem but there are already Games and people dying for the enjoyment of others. The city is called Rome and it stands at the center of the greatest empire ever created. From his perspective, there is nothing great in the empire. He is a gladiator, a former slave, who's too old to fight in the circus and who's supposed to train younger slaves to survive in an arena full of wild beasts and other gladiators who want to slip your throat. He hates his life and he drinks more than he should but he's a former favorite of the crowd so nobody pays him much attention.

Their first meeting is purely accidental.

He stumbles upon her, literally, on his quest for more alcohol. She's veiled as befits a noble woman but still, he glimpses dark blond curls before anything else and blue eyes. That's rare enough in that part of the country that he gapes a little, more taken aback by her unexpected features than her actual presence. No woman is allowed in there. No _proper_ woman in any case. But is she really a proper woman despite her attires? She holds his eyes a fraction of a second too long before avoiding them.

His curiosity is picked.

"Hello." He smirks. She doesn't answer but glances at him in irritation, probably because it's highly inappropriate for a former slave to address a noble woman. He has never really cared about such things. "Are you lost, sweetheart?"

She bristles in annoyance and turns her back to him pointedly. A group of gladiators who are perched on barrels on the other side of the courtyard and very busy watching him making an ass of himself start laughing hysterically. He ignores them and steps around her so they can talk face to face again.

"Friends of mine." he winces. "Never mind them. Where were we?"

She's clearly done with his antics. Her eyes darts left to right in fear of he doesn't know what. "You know I could have you flogged for talking to me?" she whispers furiously, low enough that her voice doesn't ring out in the courtyard.

"Ah, but you won't, sweetheart, or you would have screamed bloody murder already." he winks. "So, did you want to see half-naked men or are you lost?"

"I am waiting for my husband, if you must know." she sighs. "He won't be pleased to see you standing so close to me by the way. You are very much half-naked. Not very impressive, though. I have been told gladiators had body to die for."

He can't help but laugh out loud. "Yeah, I think people means that literally. Who's your husband? He must be a little dim to leave you out there without any form of protection."

"I have his name, this is protection enough." She doesn't seem as thrilled by that as she should be. "Nobody would dare put a finger on me."

"You're sure about that?" He lets his eyes slowly trail up and down her body, appreciatively. "I think I would risk a flogging for a girl like you."

"I am no girl." she huffs. "And you're risking it already. I have half a mind to denounce you."

"Have you, really?" he chuckles. "And here I thought we were having a nice chat."

"A nice _inappropriate_ chat." she points out.

"Those are always the most interesting, don't you think so?" He can feel himself getting smitten with her. Oh, who is he kidding? He is already smitten. He's a goner for beautiful women who can meet him barb for barb.

Her eyes widen suddenly and he spies a flash of fear on her face. "My husband's here. Go away."

He doesn't recognize the patrician at his toga but at his face. He swiftly walks away from her before the man sees him there because there's no point in antagonizing him : he's the emperor's closest friend and advisor.

Still, he doesn't like the way the senator grabs his wife's arm and drags her more than steers her towards the door. It seems the man has taken an interest in the circus because he sees the woman again, the following week, waiting in exactly the same spot.

"Are we inappropriately chatting today?" he asks. "Because…" The shadow of a bruise he glimpses on her face makes him stop. "What happened?" He's surprised by the anger in his voice, he's surprised to care that much. It's been a few years since he has last taken an interest in something other than his bottle of ale.

"Please." she sighs. "Do not ask any impertinent question. Asking me that isn't polite."

"What's polite then?" he growls. "Ignoring the fact that you've got a bruise on your face?"

"Yes." she hisses.

"Well that just sounds plain stupid to me." He lifts a hand instinctively and she flinches back which is all the explanation he needs really. "Sorry."

"Why do you insist on aggravating me?" she asks in annoyance, adjusting her veil over her hair.

"I don't know, sweetheart." he shrugs. "Nothing better to do."

The senator brings her every week. They have inappropriate chats every week.

The other gladiators, the oldest who like him are there to train the youngest, tell him to stay away. He can't. He's enthralled, he's trapped. He can't stay away from her. Her eyes twinkle with mirth when she laughs at his jokes and it's become his mission to make her laugh as much as he can. She's cleverer than she looks and he loves the way she can hold her own and even leave him gob-smacked sometimes. They bicker each time they talk. They disagree on everything. They have nothing in common. He wants to kiss her, take her away and start again in a place where they can both be free.

And then one day, she's not there. She doesn't come the following week either. Three weeks without news and he's desperate enough to try to find her. Their house isn't hard to locate but he's afraid of what he will find there, he's afraid his husband wou dhave hit her too strongly and… The fact that this man is treating her so badly is making his blood boil but he can't do anything for her. Raising his hand on a patrician would be a death sentence for him and wouldn't accomplish a thing to help her.

Trespassing on the estate isn't harder than sneaking away from the training center. He knows where to look for her, she has spoken enough of her favorite spot in the garden. Stone bench overlooking a small stream under a big olive tree. Except…

"This isn't a stream at all, sweetheart." he snorts. "This is a puddle."

She bolts from the bench and turns around, a hand on her heart, clearly startled. He wavers for a second, perhaps coming here hasn't been the wisest of decision. Who is he to her ? No one but the old gladiator who bothers her when she's waiting for her husband. The attraction he feels is perhaps one-sided or maybe he has dreamt it in an alcohol daze. Perhaps…

Her eyes fill with tears and she launches herself at him in a way that's absolutely not proper for a noble married woman. He catches her, of course – he suspects he will _always_ be there to catch her – and buries his nose in her hair when her veil slips to the ground.

"You shouldn't be here." she whispers against his collar bone. "If they find you…"

"You disappeared." he replies tersely. "I was worried."

She leans back and frames his face in her hands, some tears trailing unchecked down her cheeks. There's a new bruise there, and some on her arms too. It awakes a thirst to kill in him like he hasn't known since his last fight in the arena. "This is neither proper nor clever." she says urgently and with despair. "I can't fall in love with you. I _can't_. It will end…"

He kisses the end of her sentence away. She's right, obviously, neither proper nor clever. He doesn't care for propriety but clever has always been his game, except with her. With her… The kiss grows heated and when she moans in his mouth he knows he's lost. Love, he has come to think, was a weakness, something unreachable and fragile that left you breathless and hurting. He is breathless and hurting, right then, but he's also very much aware of how good it feels to kiss her, to hold her, to… She's the one who slips off her dress but he's happy to help, he's happy to kiss every mark of abuse, he's happy to cherish and adore her body like it should be. He's never been as careful with a woman as he is with her. He loves her and there is no going back from that.

"Run away with me." he asks, a while later, when the sky is starting to get dark and he's laying on the grass watching her get dressed hastily.

Her whole body seems to freeze and when she looks at him, he can see the temptation in her eyes, the desperate desire to say yes. But she's clever, cleverer than him probably, because she buries that desire deep, deep down and all that's left when she studies him is sadness and regret. "It will be our death."

He doesn't ask again that night. But he comes back the next week and the one after that and the one after that. The secluded garden is the perfect meeting place because no one ever wanders in. They argue and they kiss and they make love and he asks her to run away and she always says no. It goes on for months. Until the time he finds her so badly bruised, shaking like a leaf in a storm, and his sight goes red.

"He knows." she whispers.

The sensation is similar to a bucket of ice thrown at his face. "We're leaving. Tonight. Come." He extends a hand she doesn't take.

"He doesn't know it's you." she shakes her head. "You are safe."

"But you are not and that's all I care about." He kneels besides the bench, clasps her hands in his and kiss the bruised knuckles. She has tried to defend herself. It only makes him angrier. No one should touch her in hate and he should be able to kill whoever did. He had killed plenty of good men over the years, he would take pleasure in killing that one. "Come with me." he pleads again. "We can find a ship. Go across the sea, to Carthage or somewhere else. Somewhere he will never find you. I will keep you safe."

One of her hands wanders to his cheek, her nails rasping in the stubble covering his jaw. "He is my husband."

"I can be your husband." he scowls. "I can be whatever you want me to be. If he knows and you stay here…"

The barking of dogs make him fall silent. They both stand up, worried and alerted.

"Go away." she begs, pushing him a little towards the wall he always climbs to get in and out. "Go away."

He grabs her arms more violently than he ever did, he sees the flicker of fear on her face and gentles his grip but he doesn't relent. "Not without you. I don't care if they tear me apart, I am not leaving without you."

"If you love me, you will go away right now." she whispers. He waits for the tears but there are none. "If you love me… Please, save yourself, there is nothing you can do for me but that." The barking is closer now and she pushes him again. "_Go_."

"I'm coming back for you." he pledges. "You hear me? By the gods, I'm coming back for you."

He climbs the wall and jumps on the other side just when the dogs arrive. He can hear raised voices and angry shouting but he forces himself to run away. He makes it back to the arena but he avoids the knowing glances of his friends. Nobody ever said a thing, gladiators have honor despite what people seem to think and few of them wanted to be there in the first place: their loyalties aren't to the emperor.

When he lies on his bed, that night, he can't fall asleep. He can only think of her, her blue eyes and her dark blond hair… He's worried sick about her. So when guards come for him in the morning, he's not overly surprised. Gladiators aren't loyal to the emperor but their loyalty goes first and foremost to themselves and a way out of the arena is as good as any. It is a Game day and they fling him with the gladiators who are going in that day. A last fight, they say, but an unfair one, he knows. His sword is as old as he is, his muscles are unresponsive and his reflexes are sluggish. And yet he has something to fight for, a goal. He wants to save her, to fight his way back to her.

He was good in his time. He steps into the arena, amidst the cries of the crowd who chants his name like years have not gone by and he makes a stand. He slays people he has trained and it's not even hard because he knows their flaws. Their faces are a blur, the only one he can think about is hers. The wild beasts are trickier but he's clever, good at tactics, and even though he's badly injured, he's still the one standing when the lion and the panther die. That's when they send the older gladiators in, the ones he had known for years, the ones who are old and crippled like he is. _His_ _friends_. The crowd goes wild, of course, but he's half-tempted to give up his weapons, to refuse the fight. Would they do the same? They would be punished and probably slaughtered because the spectators require blood but…

That's when the arrival of the senator in the imperial box causes a small disruption in the crowd. There's a black rim on his toga and he knows what it means. He knows. He lets his sword slips from his grip and falls to his knees. It's his friend who's standing in front of him, his oldest friend, and he hesitates for a second before striking but it's a good strike. A merciful death. A few seconds, no more.

He dies with her name on his lips, knowing he will never see her again.

He's wrong. He does see her again.

_Are there gods? Has his pledge to come back for her been heard and are they taking him to his word? Or are the two of them destined to find each other over time and space? He has heard of the term soulmates, sometimes he thinks that's what they are. Sometimes he thinks they are cursed. He finds her and he loses her or she finds him and she loses him. It happens time and time again. _

_Sometimes, he sees her and he remembers. _

This time, they're standing in a forest. He's English and he has come to the New World to stay, she's a local, dressed in furs, all dark skin and dark braided hair. She's beautiful. Their eyes meet and they click. He remembers, he loves her and, of course, he loses her in a pity war that doesn't concern either of them.

_Sometimes_, _he remembers when they kiss_.

They're both studying music. He plays the piano and she sings. They hate each other, they bicker all day long and they argue on everything. She criticizes his skills and he says she sings like a cat with its tail stuck in a closed door. They're actually both very good at what they do and for all the distaste they show each other, he likes to think they're kind of friends.

Except, they're not in the right country at the right time and he's Jewish when her parents are both members of the Nazis party. She doesn't know about him but he does know she dabbles in some underground movement of resistance, so one day, when their argument grows too intense and he becomes meaner than usual he throws her parent's political beliefs at her head and then, for good measure, he throws the yellow star he has never sewn on too. She scoops it up instinctively and stands there with the frayed piece of fabric in her hand, a sad look on her face. The heated argument is replaced by a silence he doesn't like.

"Nothing to say to that, sweetheart?" he sneers. "So unlike you. I'm disappointed. You have a new range of insults to chose from, now."

She doesn't insult him. She thrusts the fabric deep in her own pocket and steps closer, until she's invading his personal space. Later he will wonder if she already remembered at that point and was just waiting for him to catch up. But later would be too late.

The moment their lips touch, he remembers.

They don't discuss this. They never do. But they know.

They love each other in their own way which involves a lot of arguing and they make good use of the time they have left because they know it will be short. It always is. That time isn't different.

He dies far from her, in the cold, starved and beaten, her name on her lips. It's a different name yet it is the same. Names don't matter. She dies a few years later, whispering his name like a prayer.

_Sometimes, he remembers when they make love_.

They're always on opposite sides of a war it seems. They're star-crossed in every way they can be. And yet he always falls for her and she always falls for him. He's a white planter's son in Virginia and she's one of their slaves. Their story is slow and complicated because he loves her but she can't really say no to him and he doesn't want to force her. He courts her like he has never courted any woman before, he makes sure she doesn't feel pressured, he makes sure she understands she can refuse him. It's her who kisses him in the end, because she's fed up with his antics when she has told him a million times she understands.

The first time they sleep together, everything comes back to him at once. All the lives, all the pain, all the heartbreak but then it washes away and recedes in the back of his skull like it always does. It's here and he knows it but it's neither overwhelming nor disturbing. It just is.

For a while, everything is perfect. They argue and kiss and make up. They hide, of course, and, for once, he begins to think they finally broke the odd curse that follow them in every of their lives. Except they haven't. Someone finds out and his father laughs at him until he makes it clear that he actually loves her and wishes to marry her – he would run away to the north with her if it were what it takes, he should have done it already – then all hell breaks loose. He doesn't know what happens actually but, afterwards, he can remembers a lot of arguing and shouting and then he's on the floor, his head slipped opened. His mother's scream, a doctor, days waking and falling asleep, in and out, life looks like a daze.

When he finally wakes up for good, he doesn't need his mother to tell him. She's dead, he knows. He feels it. Her absence is a hole in his soul. It always is.

He runs away a week later and joins General Washington's troops who are fighting to free the South of slavery. It's a desperate quest to avenge her. It's stupid probably. But it's also a way to kill time until he can find her again. Because he will. He has pledged it. That once, he doesn't have time to say her name before death takes him.

_Sometimes, he remembers when it's too late._

Paris is ablaze with resentment and the city is thirsty for blood. He's wearing a three-colored cockade on his breast and contemplates the revolution he helped create with proud and a tinge of worry. Things could get out of hands really quickly, he thinks, as he watches the trail of prisoners waiting to get their head chopped off by the guillotine. Aristocrats mostly, but it won't stop at that, he senses.

He's not particularly searching for anyone but his eyes still catch one of the ladies. He recognizes her because she's famous enough, one of the Queen's closest friend, even though she looks different without her white wig and her extravagant dresses. Her blond hair is loose on her neck, her blue eyes are terrified and when they meet his…

His breath catches and he lets out a gasps. Her face twists from terror to despair and then to something more peaceful. She smiles at him, a little sadly, and then she's gone. He tries to get to her but she's the next on the line and he's slowed by the crowd. She's dead when he reaches her. She doesn't have a name to whisper as a prayer this time around.

_Sometimes, it all feels pointless but he never ever gives up. _

The sensation of urgency is crushing and with every day that passes, Haymitch finds it harder and harder to breathe. In this lifetime, he remembered early. The first time she replied to his gibe with one of her own, he knew. They fall into each other like they always did, claws and teeth out. Haymitch and Effie never really fall in love, they _collapse_ in love, they crash and burn and ask for more.

He tries his best to protect her all those years by keeping their relationship a secret and mostly letting her think he doesn't care as much as he does. She does keep their affair secret but she has other way of trying to protect him: she takes care of him, she comforts him, she soothes the nightmares away. She also annoys him to death but that's why he loves her.

It works well enough until Katniss and Peeta come along because the kids change everything. For once, Twelve has a chance to actually win and Haymitch and Effie are thrust into the spotlights while their tributes fight for their lives in the arena. They're careful not to make mistakes, not to give anything away, until Katniss takes out those berries and Haymitch finds himself with a whole new set of worries.

Rebels contact him and he cannot let this chance pass. He doesn't say anything to Effie but he has a feeling she knows anyway because she always does. She's a very good actress and can seem clueless and stupid when he knows for a fact she's neither of those. Victory Tour only confirms that a war is inevitable and, of course, they're once again on opposite sides.

They don't discuss this. They never do. But they know.

"I'm with you." she whispers against the back of his neck, in the dead of night, the last night of the Tour. "Whatever happens, I'm on your side." He thinks she believes him to be asleep or she doesn't and she's just pretending to. It's hard to say with her sometimes.

He vows again to protect her but he fears it's pointless.

The Quarter Quell announcement only enhances that sensation. His world is a world of shadows. In Twelve, despair is everywhere. He lets Katniss and Peeta sever him from alcohol because he knows that, ultimately, his addiction will be a problem. He needs to be sharp and liquor doesn't help him much anymore anyway. He lets the kids train him for a Game he has no intention to play. The urgency only increase because he was _out_ and they're threatening to throw him back in and it remind him of another life.

This one is too similar to their first and it terrifies him.

When Plutarch tells him what the plan is, he makes arrangement so that Effie can be evacuated too before Snow gets it into his mind to arrest her. Thirteen isn't particularly pleased but Haymitch controls Katniss to a point and they need it. Plutarch isn't fooled by his excuses that Katniss will be more comfortable with Effie around but he has the good grace to not saying anything. Everything would go fine.

"I'm leaving with you." she states, arms folded.

They're in the middle of her apartment because it was the easiest place the rebel team could access to get her out of the Capitol. He has insisted they went there without much explanations but she never asks for much anyway. She knows how to read him, she knows more than she lets on.

"Nobody's leaving." he mumbles, leaning in for a kiss. He needs to meet Plutarch in half an hour and he's late already.

She avoids his kiss and put a hand on his chest. "Haymitch, don't. I'm going with you, we stay together."

He sighs and prays to god her flat isn't bugged. "You will be safer here, sweetheart. I will see you again in a few hours. Everything will be fine."

He had expressly said his cooperation depends on her presence in Thirteen. He won't stop at anything to protect her. The feeling of urgency is too strong to be ignored and it's beginning to lace with something like dread.

This life is too similar to the first one. He can't get it out of his head that it's their last chance.

"When we're not together, one of us always ends up dead." Her eyes are glued to the ground and there is a small frown on her face like she isn't sure this is the cleverest thing to say.

They don't discuss this. They never do. But they know.

"Sweetheart…" he tries again.

"Don't sweetheart me." she hisses. "You know I am right."

"I know you will be safer here so you're staying here." he growls. "A few hours away from each others aren't going to kill one of us." Well, it might kill _him_. Rescuing tributes in a hovercraft isn't Haymitch's idea of safety. "We'll be fine."

"Will we?" Her eyes are sad, knowing in a way. Does she feel the same he does? Does she, too, think it's their last chance?

He has to be right. For once, in all those lives, he has to be right. "We will."

She nods but she's tensed, frightened. When she wraps her arms around his torso, he hugs back for dear life. "I love you." she whispers against his neck. "I _love_ you."

"I know." He presses kisses against her forehead, her cheek, her shoulder… He never says it back in this life. He can't. Love has burned him before she came in and made him remember. Love isn't something he can't think about even if he _does_ love her. "We always find each other. It will be okay, Effie. You wait for a few hours and then they will come and bring you back to me."

It's a promise he intends to keep and she must know it because this time her nod is more confident. "Until next time, then." She kisses him and it feels like goodbye, but then she steps back and he has no choice but to rush to his and Plutarch's meeting place.

Once again, it's Katniss who's responsible for everything. He doesn't actually blame her but he sometimes wonders why she cannot stay put and do as she's told. She force them to go quicker than they planned. They lose the boy and Johanna – Enobaria, he never cared much for. He's so engrossed in worrying about Peeta and Katniss' reaction to his loss, that he almost forgets to worry about Effie until Finnick wakes up and starts asking about Annie.

Haymitch doesn't offer any word of comfort for which Finnick seems to be grateful. He doesn't know if there are others like them or if it's just Effie and him who seem to remember lives they never really lived, he never had the nerves to ask. Effie is safe and it is all that matters to him.

Until they finally arrive in Thirteen and he's told Katniss' prep team had been retrieved but not Effie. Peacekeepers got there first, they tell him. Do they expect the explosion of rage? They should have. He breaks things and shouts abuse at anyone who comes near him for two days, until Finnick simply grabs his shoulders and forces him under the cold spray of his shower. The cold is like an electroshock.

"You find her and you bring her back." Finnick says again and again, and Haymitch is not sure who he's speaking to or whom he's speaking about. Effie or Annie? "You save her. You save her."

It's not a bad plan so Haymitch does. Or he tries to at least. It hurts to know she was right all along and they could have avoided that if only he had listened to her. Bad things happen when they're not together. He should have stayed with her or took her with him. He vows that if they ever make it out of this unscathed – and they better be this time, because he's _tired_ of dying with her name on his lips, he's _tired_ of doing all this over again, he's _tired_ of watching her die because of him – they will never part from each other ever again.

When they're not working with Katniss on their Mockingjay act, Haymitch and Plutarch do their best to locate Effie, Annie, Peeta and Johanna. They find out where they keep the victors and they figure Effie must be there too. She's on the list of people to bring back, he makes sure she is, but when the rebels come back victorious, Effie is not with them. Johanna is in a sorry state, Peeta is broken beyond repair, Annie is even more withdrawn than she ever was and Effie is still missing.

Haymitch collapses on his bed and doesn't get up for three days. He waits for someone to come and grate his nerves about it but no one comes because, he thinks, no one cares. He craves alcohol but he craves her skin more, she's as much an addiction as booze is by this point. He wants to die without her, just like his hopeless yearning for liquor makes him want to die. Still nobody comes for him and he wonders if he should just give up and die. Would she feel the hollowness like he always did when she died? Would she give up too? Would they find each other again and try somewhere else?

But he can't, in the end, because there's still this awful nagging in the back of his head that tells him this is now or never. Time is running out.

"I'm coming back for you." he whispers those words that aren't really his to the empty bedroom and he hopes she can hear somehow wherever she is. "You hear me? By the gods, I'm coming back for you."

He doesn't feel better afterwards but gets up, takes a shower and goes find something to eat. Giving up on each other never was their style.

Months pass before they're ready to take on the Capitol and the battle is so chaotic that even if he's only working strategies with Plutarch, he's exhausted by the end of it. After it's all finally over, Thirteen is more alive and joyful than it ever was but he doesn't stay to celebrate with the others, he goes back to his room to drown in his misery. He's barely laid down when an unexpected knock at the door makes him stand up once again.

It's Johanna and he's tempted to slam the door in her face because she has been nagging him non-stop about not being allowed to go and fight with Katniss and Finnick. Something on her face stops him. She's serious and distressed in a way she never is.

"They found your escort." she says before he can ask what she wants. "Plutarch thought you would want to know. The hovercraft is on its way."

He has never run as fast in his life, even in the arena. It's pointless, of course, because it's two hours before the hovercraft appears in the sky and he spends every minutes of them watching and praying. She's among a mass of prisoners but he finds her immediately even in the chaos that takes place on the lading-ground. She's unconscious and her grey prison suit is bloody in some place but otherwise she seems fine. Starved, dehydrated and a bit bruised, but fine.

She isn't a medical priority compared to some others, he tries to pull rank but nothing does the trick and, in the end, he had to wait with her unconscious self in a crowded corridor for a free medic to come and help. They're short of doctors, most of them have been sent to the Capitol.

It's hours before they put her in a bed and finally see to her wounds. They assure him she's not too badly injured. There are traces of torture but they're old. She's lucky, the doctors tell him, because they seem to have get bored with her months ago. She needs food, water and rest but she should be physically alright. Her mental state, however, is another matter entirely but they can't say anything until she wakes up. Haymitch isn't too worried about that. She's strong, whatever happened to her, she can get past it.

She hasn't opened her eyes yet when Plutarch comes in with less thrilling news. Primrose and Finnick are dead, Katniss is badly burned and Peeta is in a sorry state. They're both required in the Capitol.

"No." he refuses. "I've done my part." He's staying with Effie. She's right, when they're apart, one of them always ends up dead. He can't wait for her to wake up and utter her favorite 'I told you so'. She enjoys telling that particular sentence very much.

"You will want to speak to Coin." Plutarch sighs. "She had a bunch of people involved in the Games rounded up and ready to be executed. You need to come with me to the Capitol."

_Coin_. He has always known Coin would be a problem. "And leaving Effie here so she can have her killed?" he snorts. "Over my dead body and literally at that." But not this time. _Not_ _this_ _time_. They can't go through that. Not again.

"Effie is safe, here. Johanna can keep an eye on her." Plutarch argues. "I can't convince Coin for you, Haymitch. And if you can't convince her you will need Katniss to do it for you. Either way, if you want to protect her, you need to come to the Capitol."

Plutarch, as often, is right. He hates it. He hates the fact that he has to leave when she looks so frail and lonely in her bed. He hates that he has to go before she wakes up. He leaves her under Johanna's vigilance, warning her that if Effie is not unscathed when he comes back, there would be hell to pay. He doesn't leave a message for when she wakes up. There's no point, she knows everything. At least, he hopes she does.

He thought convincing Coin wouldn't be as difficult as it proves itself to be. The woman is dead set on obliterating everyone who has ever had anything to do with the Hunger Games – Plutarch is even questioned at some point which is utterly ridiculous for everyone involved in the rebellion – and Katniss is in no condition to help. As more and more people are getting executed, Haymitch starts making escape plans. He doesn't know where they could go because the Earth doesn't seem wide enough for them to be able to finally live in peace but he's growing desperate.

When Coin tells him, the morning of Snow's execution, that she has decided Effie is to be executed last of the list – to give her time to get her affairs straight, which is more than others have had – Haymitch almost loses it. The war is over, they won, they had never ever survived a war before, but it's not enough, it's never enough. They're doomed, it seems.

He's angry at Plutarch when he learns he had her transferred from Thirteen to the Capitol so she could play the escort one last time with Katniss before Snow's execution. He finally manages to find her in Katniss's suit while the girl herself is god knows where, Katniss isn't totally right in her head anymore. Effie is remarkably unchanged: same dress, same shoes, same ugly wig… And yet, he sees the difference right away. Something gave in her, something died. Her eyes, her beautiful, bright and twinkling eyes, are empty.

"Sweetheart." It's a plea for forgiveness and a desperate wish for her to be whole once again all rolled into one.

She smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Hello, Haymitch."

He doesn't know exactly how they get from him standing by the door and her clutching her clipboard in the middle of the room to them kissing with passion and despair but they do. They always do anyway. "How are you?" he asks, between two kisses and it's three more before she answers.

"I don't know." she offers, truthfully. "I think I will be better once I know if they intend to kill me or not."

He strokes her cheek then and presses his mouth against hers softly. "Nobody is killing you again. Not now, not ever, not if I can help it. You're stuck with me, now."

Her smile is sad and telling. "You don't know how to lie to me." She shakes her head a little. "Would you do something for me?"

He can't help but chuckle bitterly. "Is there something I haven't done yet?"

"Try to live this time, would you?" she murmurs. "Don't… _forget_ me but… find someone else. Be happy."

"Without you?" he shrugs. "Not a chance." It's simple really. Child play. He's not whole without her and she's not whole without him.

She looks even sadder then. "Try." she begs against his lips.

He doesn't. When Coin calls a meeting for the remaining victors just before Snow's execution, he sees his chance and he takes it. He knows Katniss like he knows himself. They're the same. She understood that Coin or Snow, nothing will change. When she votes yes to new Hunger Games, he follows her because he trusts her and the way she's looking at the white rose on the table makes him think she's going to do something rash like she always does.

When she kills Coin instead of Snow, he experiences a second of blatant relief because everything goes to hell around them and he has to take care of everything once more. Relief, however, is short lived. He's shipped back to Twelve with Katniss, while Effie has to stay in the Capitol on probation. He leaves Katniss with a promise to come and take care of her the next day but he never shows up. He falls back into alcohol and he tries to forget but he fails. He does lose any sense of time.

So one day when he wakes up to see a blond woman standing in front of his couch, hands on her hips, and a scowl on her face, he doesn't immediately react. He thinks he's dreaming at first. He dreams of her a lot in the midst of nightmares.

"I will _not_ live in a pigsty, Haymitch." she says while he sits slowly, waiting for the hallucination to go away. "Start sobering up because we're cleaning."

She picks up a cushion that had rolled off the couch long ago and that he had never bothered to put back in place and throws it at his head. That's when he realizes she's real. She's real and she's there and suddenly he can't breathe. He gets up unsteadily and tries to go in for a kiss but she avoids his attempts.

"This is not happening until you have a shower." She wrinkles her nose. "Or _two_."

Of course, that leads to an argument. He manages to learn that she brought Peeta back home but he still loses the argument and ends up on the lukewarm water of the shower while she tuts and tsss at the state of his house.

It's so _easy_ to find a rhythm between them. She nags and he snaps and they bicker all day long but he relents and she thanks him softly and they always make up. It's not perfect because nothing ever is but it comes very close in Haymitch's mind.

It's years before he's brave enough to ask her. They're older than he can remember them ever being, they don't have children of their own but they have the children's kids to spoil and look after – Haymitch has long ago stopped mumbling in protest every time Katniss' girl and boy call him grandpa – and they have the geese, or rather Haymitch takes care of the geese and Effie hates the geese but while she's busy complaining about his pets they don't argue over something more serious so it suits everyone in the end. They've been together longer than in any of their past lives and those memories are starting to fade so that Haymitch is even starting to wonder if he didn't dream the whole thing.

"Did we make it, sweetheart?" he asks, late one night. They're laying in their bed, he's spooning her like he always does and she's holding his hand like she always does and it's peaceful like it always is. "Finally?"

She hums softly but doesn't answer properly. She's half-asleep already, he guesses. He kisses her neck but doesn't ask again. It doesn't matter really. What matter is that he would trade all the lives for this moment because this moment is bliss. They're together, at last, and together is all there ever should be.

_They are no one in the grand scheme of things. They are never Kings and Queens or Imperators and Impresses or Presidents or something as equally grand. They're always faces in a crowd of ordinary people. They never make history. Sometimes, he's a boy and she's a girl. Sometimes, he's a man and she's a woman. Sometimes, he's old and she's too. Sometimes it's a combination of those. _

_They are no one in the grand scheme of things but they are everything to each other. Always. They find each other and they lose each other and they find each other again. That's how it has always been and that is how it always will be._


	51. Bring it On

Prompt : can you please make one where Haymitch is 29 and Effie 23 or 24, her fist year as an scort and Haymitch does everything to make her go as he has done to the others scorts of the parts years Annoying, insulting, embarrasing them to leave but Effie is not what he thinks and he learns that the hard way and she made a promised that she will stay with him as his scort to annoy his existense just to see who cracks first.

_Don't know what exactly happened there but beware of some nudity and dirty talk. _

_**Bring it on **_

Haymitch rolled off her and laid on his back, panting for breath. Her ceiling had a crack just above her bed, he was surprised she hadn't thrown a fit about that and had it made over yet. For her first year as an escort, Effie Trinket had certainly made an impression as a perfectionist bordering on obsessive about the proper way to do things.

Haymitch had hated her at first sight.

"This doesn't change anything." he said, still short of breath. "I look forward to not seeing you next year."

How they had fallen in bed together was a bit of a mystery to him. He had used every trick up his sleeve to peeve her away. Usually, by that time, District Twelve's escort had given up and Trinket's stubborn refusal to quit was a problem. He had a bet with Chaff, an escort a year. The shortest they stayed, the more expensive was the bottle of whiskey the loser had to buy. Chaff had already driven his escort away, she had handed her notice two days earlier. But Trinket? Trinket didn't seem fazed by anything.

He had showed up drunk at the Reaping, he had thrown up on her very expensive shoes, he had insulted her, made fun of her, mortified her in front of every person they had met… In short, he had made her life a living hell from start to finish and instead of running away as fast as her high heels could take her, she had screamed bloody murder, replied to every of his insults by one of her own and, more generally, had annoyed the hell out of him. Oh, how Chaff had laughed when he had told him that one would be harder to get rid of…

He had needed to be more creative and he thought he had been just that when he had "tripped" and snatched her wig off her head during an interview for that year losing districts. They had been on live television after all, but she had laughed it off with Flickerman like it happened every day and had "accidentally" kicked him in the shin afterwards, when they had been going back to the penthouse. That had given way to a screaming match to rival all screaming matches he ever had in his life. He had pushed her against the wall at some point, trying to threaten some sense into her but she had not been afraid, she had pushed right back and from that… Well he seemed to recall quite a lot of shouting abuse at each others and then she had kissed him or he had kissed her, he couldn't quite remember which way it had happened. The sex, he must admit, had been _really_ good. Who knew Miss Proper would be such a tigress in the sack? He was still a bit breathless…

"You will see me next year." Trinket chuckled. "And the year after that. The sooner you accept it, the easier it will be."

"No, I won't." He should get out of her room, find some liquor and forget this ever happened. He could feel his body starting to relax and he was sure he was going to fall asleep. "Escorts don't last more than one year with me."

"This is my chance, I'm not letting it pass because you're a bully, Haymitch." She turned on her side and propped herself on her elbow. "Learn how to work with me and everything will run smoothly."

He turned his head lazily to look at her. She was a beautiful woman, really attractive. Her silver wig was somewhere between the elevator and the bedroom door, her dark blond hair barely reached her shoulders but it was soft and long enough for his fingers to tangle in when he had… Alright, that wasn't helping matters. Her make-up was smudged and almost gone, so that her face was covered in white powder in some spots only; her lipstick, he was sure, was all over his mouth and body, her lips were all swollen and bruised from too much kissing; one of her fake eyelashes had fallen off at some point which made her look slightly ridiculous because one of her eye seemed smaller than the other. She had gorgeous eyes, so blue you just had to hold them a second longer than necessary.

"Sweetheart, if you think I will let you stay because of what just happened, you're very mistaken." he snorted. "I don't fuck Capitol women if I can help it."

He didn't know _exactly _what had just happened. He had never willingly had sex with someone from the Capitol, even on some of his most wasted night of drinking.

He had hoped the crude language would have shocked her – maybe offend her enough that she would huff and cry and run away to give her notice – but she didn't even bat an eyelid. "I don't fuck rude uncivilized men either, so I'm glad we've sorted this out."

Oh, she was good. He couldn't help his smirk. "Uncivilized?"

"Everyone knows the proper thing to do for a man after a one-night stand is to leave quickly and quietly and never speak of it again so no party is embarrassed." She lifted a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "And yet here you are, not only laying in my bed but talking about it. Really improper, that."

There was something about her lecturing him on propriety when she was stark naked that he found very arousing. She didn't even seem to care about being naked, there was no false modesty, no shyness… She showed the self-confidence of someone who was hot and knew it. She obviously noticed his predicament because she eyed his body with a smug smile and it made him stop for a bit and think more clearly. Did she seduce him in hope that he would relent and stop trying to make her quit?

"You don't look very embarrassed to me." he commented. His hand twitched with the need to touch her again.

"Perhaps I am very talented at acting." she retorted.

"Maybe." he granted her. Who knew who was what in the Capitol? Big town of fakes and phonies. "How old are you?"

Her laugh sounded genuine enough to his ears, like she was actually surprised and amused by the question. "You don't ask a lady that kind of questions. Rude."

"I'm beginning to think you enjoy rudeness." He rolled on his side so that he could see her properly. "Proper is a little boring for your taste, isn't it, Princess?"

She studied him for a few seconds and tilted her head. "I am twenty-three, if you must know." She gave a one-shoulder shrug that made her breasts sway and he couldn't look away for a few seconds. "And I am still not quitting. You will have to do better than your pitiful childish attempts at driving me away. I intend to become really famous and I always get what I want."

"Do you, now?" he rolled his eyes. He had seen thousands of girls like her, all dreaming of becoming the next hit girl in the Capitol. They all thought being an escort or a commentator in the Games would be their ladder to success but it never was.

"Well, I got you, didn't I?" she teased. "I used to have a big crush on you in my teenage years. I swore I would sleep with you one day, and here we are."

He surprised himself by openly laughing at that one. "Glad I could settle that fantasy of yours." He couldn't wait to tell Chaff. He would never hear the end of it. "You're still not staying."

"You know, I was thinking of staying in Twelve for two or three years before applying to a more prestigious District, but you trying to make me give up makes me think I will stay a while longer." She laid back down. "There's something you should know about me, since we're going to be colleagues for a few years. I never yield, Haymitch, nor do I ever back down from a challenge."

"You're not staying, period." he growled. "You will quit just like every other one of your fellow little chicks has done."

She hooked a leg behind his and pulled. He grated his teeth but refused to give up even if the effect she was having on him was in plain sight. "Should we bet on that?" She leaned in and brushed her lips against his, not exactly kissing but certainly teasing. "Which one of us can be the most annoying, do you think? Because I do think I want to stay and drive you mad." She was doing just that already but he wasn't about to go and admit it out loud. Her foot ran up and down his calf. "Terms of the bet : I quit, you get to sleep with me again. For every year I stay, I get to sleep with you again. How does that sound?"

"There's a flaw in your plan, sweetheart." he pointed out. "Who says I want to sleep with you again? Told you I don't do Capitols."

"No?" She snuggled against him, and his hand instinctively shot to her waist. He was lost. Too much skin on skin, too many sensations. Her creamy white skin against his olive skin was driving him crazy. She pressed a few kisses on his collarbone and then nibbled softly on it. That was going to leave a mark but he was still debating between pinning her to the mattress and getting out of her bed. Where was the upper hand in this thing? How did he win ? She made the choice for him in the end. "And here I thought I could be the exception." She straddled him and then slid to the other side of him to get out of the bed. He watched her slip her dressing gown on, he was aroused and frustrated and not totally getting how this small thing of a woman could have get one over him when he had sent grown men crying. "All bets are off, then. We will play for glory." She looked down at him with a smile. "You're not winning this, Haymitch. I've annoyed people since I was born."

"I will be _such_ a pain in your ass, Trinket." he vowed, climbing off her bed with as much dignity as he could. Her lips twitched in amusement – dirty mind too, what kind of escort did they appointed to him this year? – but he didn't let that distract him. "You should do yourself a favor and resign while you can."

She pecked his lips softly. It wasn't an invitation and he didn't mistake it for one. It was a challenge. "Do your worst, I shall answer in kind."

"Bring it on, sweetheart." he smirked. "Bring it on."


	52. Delivery Day

So I was re-reading Mockingjay's ending and there was that part : "Peeta bakes. I hunt. Haymitch drinks until the liquor runs out, and then raises geese until the next train arrives". So I know it means Haymitch waits for the train because it brings liquor but then I thought : well, Haymitch never needed the train before to find liquor in Twelve and thus this headcanon of mine was born. (It's not a prompt but I'm lazy and I don't want to publish a new story for that so... headcanon time! yeah!)

_**Delivery Day**_

Katniss hiked back up the slope to her house, her day catch flung over her shoulder and her bow in her hand. She paused next to Haymitch's place, surprised and almost shocked to hear him humming good-naturedly while feeding the geese in the back garden. She leaned against the fence, propping her elbow on the wood and watching him go from one end of the pen to another, changing water, hay, and answering each honk with a chosen epithet of his own. He was quite oblivious to her.

"Someone is in a good mood." she observed, at last.

He didn't look startled per se, but his hand shot for the waistband of his pants and the knife he was keeping there. He relaxed once he saw her standing there but any trace of contentment disappeared from his face. God forbid anyone thought Haymitch to be happy sometimes.

"It's liquor day." Haymitch grunted, with a shrug.

"Is it what we're calling it, these days?" she teased, hauling herself up so she could sit on the fence, careful to keep her legs out of the pen. She didn't like his geese much. They were honking all day long and were rather aggressive pets. She had threatened more than once to hunt them down and feed them to Buttercup.

"I don't know what you mean, girl." he denied, glaring at her. "Get off my fence, you will wreck it and your boy will have to built it up again."

Peeta had only helped Haymitch, really, but Katniss chose to humor him. "Is it only a liquor day or is it a _Effie_ day?"

"It's a _mind your own business_ day." he sneered.

She didn't even try to wipe her smirk off her face. "So it _is_ a Effie day."

Effie came in and out of Twelve an awful lot, to Katniss' opinion. In the beginning, she had used all kind of silly excuses like how she had just wanted to check on her victors, and then how she had felt the need for a few weeks of vacations in the country, or how she had been in Four for a job with Plutarch and she had thought why not push all the way to Twelve? But Katniss' personal favorite was the day she and Peeta had just barged in Haymitch's house uninvited like they more or less always did because they hadn't seen him in a few days and wanted to make sure he was alright and not passed out drunk somewhere, and they had stumbled upon Effie in his kitchen, a toast half-way to her mouth, wearing nothing but one of his shirts. Katniss had almost not recognized her without her wig and make-up – Capitol fashion had died down a bit after the rebellion, but not by much and Effie was still very much the fashionable girl – what was going on had been so obvious that Peeta had started to stutter an apology when Effie had come up with the most ridiculous excuse ever : her luggage had been lost and she had been drenched by the rain so Haymitch had kindly lent her a shirt. It probably would have been a little more believable if it had actually rained in the last two weeks or if Haymitch hadn't chosen that moment to stagger in the kitchen stark naked – a sight Katniss was still valiantly trying to forget to that day.

"What's it to you if it is?" Haymitch grumbled, getting out of the pen, careful not to let any goose step out with him.

"Wasn't she here last month, already?" She hopped from the fence and followed him to his kitchen – mostly _clean_ kitchen, she couldn't help but notice, definitely an Effie day, then. Usually the former escort came by every two or three months or so but lately her visits had been longer and more frequent.

"What are you? A Peacekeeper?" Haymitch snorted putting coffee on. "Why do you care so much?"

She ignored the gibe and sat on a chair without being invited to, propping the bow against the table and letting her game fall to the floor. "And didn't you go to the Capitol two weeks ago?" She made a face, she didn't get how Haymitch could go back there. She wouldn't even if they paid her – not that they would welcome her anyway after Coin.

He misinterpreted her disgusted face. "Do I comment upon the fact that Peeta sleeps at your house more often than not? I don't think so." He pulled out two mugs from the cupboard, inspected them dubiously under the kitchen light and then decided they were clean enough because he put them on the counter, making sure to bang them loud enough to make his displeasure known. "I stay out of your sex life, you stay out of mine."

She did wince this time. "Please, don't talk about that." It made her nauseous to only think about it. Peeta had once mentioned to her that it was as disturbing to think about Haymitch and Effie doing that as if they were their own parents and he wasn't wrong. "Should you even _have_ a sex life? You're old, it could kill you."

If _glares_ could kill, Katniss would have dropped dead at that precise second. Still, Haymitch set a cup of coffee in front of her, took a sip of his own, and cringed at the taste. He liked his coffee with a quarter of liquor, she knew, but he was all out of that.

"Why doesn't she stay here?" she asked, out of curiosity. But she guessed the answer even before Haymitch could make fun of her for even thinking she would. Effie Trinket in District Twelve? She barely knew what to do with herself when she was there for a week or two – beside annoying Haymitch to death, that was. She would go crazy if she had to stay on a more permanent basis. "Never mind."

Haymitch was sporting such a smirk Katniss knew he was picturing exactly the same thing she was : Effie getting frustrated with the way things were done around there and trying to open a school for proper behavior and good manners. Effie could probably adjust herself to their way of life eventually but she wouldn't be really happy, not as she could be in the Capitol. She loved parties and silly things like fashion that had no place in Twelve. Now, Haymitch, on the other hand… Katniss took a sip of her coffee, the bitterness disgusted her but she didn't bother asking for sugar.

"In the hovercraft, when we were coming back to Twelve…" she hesitated but now that the idea was in her mind, she couldn't get it out. "I asked you why you were coming back with me and you said… You said they couldn't find a place for you in the Capitol." He didn't answer and she carefully stared at the mug in her hands. "You were ordered to come back here to take care of me, weren't you?"

"It's been years." he said with a shrug. "What's the point of talking about that now?"

"Would you have stayed in the Capitol?" The mug was red and its rim was indented in some places. "You would have, wouldn't you? Stayed with Effie, I mean." How much did they make him sacrifice for the Mockingjay? She thought back to the very first weeks after they came back, it was all a blur and her memories were rather unreliable, but she remembered how quickly Haymitch had fallen back into alcohol when he had been battling against his addiction every day in Thirteen and right after, when they were in the Capitol. She remembered he had shut himself up in his house and lived like a recluse until Peeta and her coaxed him out slowly, although, it wasn't until Effie's first unexpected visit that Haymitch had started to really get out more. "You could go now, couldn't you?" she mused. Her eyes weren't burning because of unshed tears, she vowed, she wasn't scared or sad or anything like that. It was true that Haymitch was as much a part of her family as Peeta or Greasy Sae, but she could get by without him if it meant he would be happier somewhere else. "We don't really need you anymore. And the Capitol is better stocked in liquor, you would never run out, there."

"Are you trying to show me the door, sweetheart?" Haymitch joked, but his voice was kind of strained. "I am where I am meant to be. Twelve is as much my home as it yours."

"Not everybody feels that way." she pointed out. Her mother wouldn't ever put a toe back in Twelve, she knew, and others were feeling exactly the same way.

"We're not like everybody else, Katniss." he sighed. She heard what he didn't say, they were victors, rebels, _survivors_.

A concert of honking and clanging and cursed words that Katniss would never have thought her capable of and the back door opened on Effie who was struggling with her suitcase. "I _swear_, Haymitch, your damn geese…" She fell silent abruptly when she took sight of Katniss and her scowl was replaced with a genuine expression of happiness. "Oh, hello, Katniss." She looked from Katniss to Haymitch, probably taking in the tense mood in the kitchen. "What is going on?"

"Nothing." Katniss reassured her quickly. "Haymitch was just trying to poison me with his coffee."

Effie shook her head in irritation. "Did you remember to change the filter like I showed you?"

Haymitch rolled his eyes, getting rid of his mug by dropping it in the sink. "Well, hello to you too, Princess. I'm fine, thank you for asking."

Katniss suppressed a smile as Effie puckered her lips. "I am _not_ fine, since you don't bother asking either. Would it kill you to help me with this?" She rattled her case that was more or less stuck in the door. "You could have picked me up at the train station. It's only polite, really, Haymitch!"

"Or you could bring a smaller suitcase." he suggested, not at all fazed by her accusation. He folded his arms. "Why do you need all that for? There's a full closet of your clothes upstairs already!"

"Last month clothes." Effie sighed, exchanging a pained look with Katniss. Katniss didn't know what was so awful about that but she did her best to appear sympathizing. "They're out of fashion."

"I should just throw them away, then." Haymitch threatened and immediately found himself subjected to what Katniss and Peeta had dubbed 'Effie's death glare'.

"Don't you dare!" she warned.

Since they were raising their voices more and more and they didn't even seem to realize she was still there, Katniss quietly gathered her belongings and slipped through the back door, stepping over Effie's case. Just in time, too. She was barely out when Haymitch finally gave in and pinned Effie against the counter to kiss her properly.

Katniss couldn't quite say she understood how they could work as a couple but she guessed everyone had their way of coping with what they'd been through. Peeta baked, she hunted and Haymitch drank until the liquor ran out and then he raised geese until the next train arrived. It was a better day when the train brought Effie rather than liquor.


	53. Under the Bombs

Prompt : Can you write a sequel to "Effie Trinket, Rebel"? I really enjoyed it! Fabulous work!(:

_This takes place during Mockingjay so minor spoilers if you haven't read the book. Also the prompt refers to chapter 27 :) _

_**Under the Bombs **_

"Where is Effie?"

Haymitch grabbed Plutarch's arm as soon as his friend had slipped between the two doors the guards were about to close. The lockdown was imminent and not everyone was accounted for. They were expecting bombs to fall on Thirteen in less than ten minutes, he and Plutarch had been dispatched with Coin to the most secure location of the District.

"I don't know." Plutarch replied, looking around the hybrid of natural and technological cave they were standing in. It was the deepest spot and the safest one too. "She should be here."

Effie hadn't been with them when they had watched Peeta's message, she probably didn't know what was going on and that it wasn't a drill.

"Close the doors!" Coin ordered. "The lockdown is effective as of now."

"Wait," he started to say but he spied a blond woman in grey slipping through the closing doors just then and sighed in relief. He barely heard Coin beginning her speech on loudspeakers, he hurried to Effie in the crowded space – lots of important people in Thirteen and small room – but she met him halfway. "Where were you?" he hissed, as soon as he could catch her arm. "The alarm rings you get your ass down here _at_ _once_."

There was a flash of irritation on her face. "I helped Primrose get her cat. I thought Katniss would appreciate the gesture."

"A damned cat?" he growled. "We're about to be bombed into oblivion and you're risking your life for _a_ _damned_ _cat_?"

"Haymitch, I'm alright." she sighed. But he wasn't, he wanted to tell her. They were about to be attacked and even if he knew they should, technically, get out of this unscathed, he was still scared and not knowing where she was didn't help matters… If he had to die, he wanted her by his side. It must have been written on his face because she took hold of his hand and steered toward one of the bunk beds lining the walls. They sat side by side, clutching each other's hand and waiting for the first bomb to fall.

The other citizens should be grateful, he thought, because they didn't have to listen to Plutarch shouting the running countdown of their imminent death. Coin remained impassive through it all as did most of the people in the room. They were all sitting on beds or on the ground, holding to each other or head bowed in silent prayer.

"I love you." Effie said, out of the blue, just as Plutarch was reaching ten. Haymitch turned his head so fast, something snapped in his neck. She licked her lips nervously and forced a smile. "I thought I should tell you. Just in case."

He desperately wanted to say it back but he couldn't. The words stayed stuck in his throat. But he leaned in and kissed her even though people were looking at them. He didn't care about them knowing. Effie wasn't well loved in Thirteen because of her past as an escort, few people accepted that she had been a part of the rebellion all along, and she was having a hard time for it. She had been invaluable in helping Plutarch, though.

"Don't die on me." he commanded.

Plutarch dived under a table and that was all the warning they got before the bomb impacted. The sound was deafening, like Earth shattering opened, but the bunker didn't shake. The lights shot down for a few seconds. Effie was gripping his hand so hard her nails were digging in his flesh. The dimmed lights of the emergency generator kicked in.

Effie leaned against his shoulder when Plutarch explained it would probably be the worst one and Haymitch put his arm around her shoulders while Coin used the loudspeakers again to reassure everyone. The following bombs weren't as loud and the ground and walls barely shook. No one really relaxed though and Plutarch's repeated warnings that there could be more bunker missiles coming wasn't actually helping them doing so.

Effie's eyes were shut tight, the lights kept flickering on and off and it probably wasn't the best time to reevaluate his life's choices but Haymitch found himself doing just that all the same. He and Effie had never put a label on what they were, after her stunt in the hovercraft, they had slept together a few times but neither of them had as much free time as they would have liked and they usually were too tired to do more than crash and sleep, they shared a bed more often than not. He loved it when she sneaked in his bed or when he woke up pressed against her. She made the lack of alcohol bearable.

"Do you miss the Capitol?" he asked, between two blasts. It was like waiting for thunders, he mused.

"Right now when they are bombarding us?" She grabbed the standard blanket at the foot of the bed and spread it over them both. It was getting chilly. "Not really, no."

"Yeah, maybe not _right_ _now_." he snorted. "But… You know. You love parties, the city, all those fancy clothes…" Because she wasn't exactly rocking the grey uniform. She missed colors, he knew.

"Sometimes." she admitted quietly.

"But not all the times." He was strangely relieved by that.

"What are you getting at?" She snuggled against him, closing her eyes suddenly when another bomb made the entire bunker shake.

"Nothing." he denied with a shrug. "Just… Maybe you could… come to Twelve when everything is over." He winced at his own clumsiness. "Sometimes."

"Only sometimes?" Her smile was smug and a little teasing.

He would probably have kissed it away if there hadn't been another series of bombing that made the lights go out. The darkness was total and oppressing.

"Generators will kick in again." Coin's voice rang out, calm and confident.

But they didn't, not immediately at least.

"Haymitch, I'm _scared_." Effie whispered, clinging to him. He could barely hear her over the noise of the explosions. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head and closed his eyes. There was nothing to do but wait.

"Everything will be alright, sweetheart." It was a hollow promise and wistful hope but it also was the only thing they had right then. "I got you."

At least, they had each other to hold close in the darkness. Some weren't as lucky as they were.


	54. Courting is for Youth

Prompt: Effie talking with Katniss about how Peeta and Haymitch are trying to woo them.

_**Courting is for Youth **_

Katniss had just poured the District-made tea into two cups when someone knocked on the backdoor. Effie blew on the hot beverage to cool it down while the younger woman went to answer the door. It was the boy who was sometimes helping Peeta at the bakery and Katniss put a small cake box on the kitchen table with a quiet smile.

"He makes me one every day." Katniss explained, opening the box to reveal a pink frosted cake with a lovely flower painted on the top of it.

"That's _so_ sweet." Effie took in the numerous vases full of flowers around the kitchen. "He's very good at courting, isn't he?"

Katniss' blush made her smile but she hid it by sipping her tea. She didn't want to embarrass the girl.

"We don't really call that courting around here, Effie." she shrugged. "It's just… a nice gesture."

"Sending flowers and sweets is called courting. Always have been, always will be." Effie disagreed good-naturedly. "I wouldn't be surprised if he asked you to marry him." She winced. "Well, you know. For real, this time."

Katniss sat back down and took hold of her tea with a smile that soon became a smirk. "What about you?"

"What about me?" She played it innocent but she wasn't fooling anyone, least of all her. Her numerous trips to Twelve were starting to make people talk, all the more so given that she was always staying at Haymitch's.

"Are you about to tie the knot or not?" Katniss outwardly asked. "Peeta and I have a bet going on, see."

"This kind of questions isn't very polite, Katniss." she chided her gently, before putting her cup down. "What are the terms of this bet precisely?"

"Peeta bet Haymitch will ask you to stay and that you won't accept until he proposes." the girl said. "And I bet you will get tired of him being an oblivious idiot and asked him yourself."

Effie couldn't help her chuckles at that picture. It seemed more like them for some reason. She couldn't see Haymitch proposing to her. _Ever_. If a wedding was to occur, it would be at her request and hers alone. She suppressed a tinge of yearning, she had dreamt of a beautiful wedding once but she had accepted long ago that it wouldn't happen, she was mostly at peace with that fact.

"Not good at courting, is he?" Katniss snorted, picking up on her amusement.

"Haymitch's idea of courting is…" _Abysmal_ was what she was going to say but she stopped at the very last second. "Unconventional." He never bought her flowers or jewelry or anything her friends in the Capitol liked to brag about, but he did try to slow down on alcohol when she was there and he did pay her extremely twisted compliments because he didn't want to sound soppy… He also always made sure to buy her favorite brand of soap when she stayed in Twelve and to clean a little before she got there.

"No kidding." Katniss laughed. "What's the most romantic thing he has ever done for you?"

Where were those questions coming from? Why so curious?

"Haymitch wouldn't know romance if it knocked him over the head." A small smile grazed her lips. "I don't need grand gestures, though. I know he loves me." She flushed a bit because she couldn't remember ever uttering that aloud. She never discussed her relationship with Haymitch, she had no one to talk about him with.

"How?" Katniss tilted her head, her teacup forgotten in her hands. There was something else underneath all those questions, Effie suspected. Was Katniss still unsure of her feelings for Peeta?

"How…" she mused. "Well…" The obvious came to mind : the way he always defended her against any victor that dared give her a hard time even back when the Games were still on because he knew how awful she felt about herself and her job as an escort, the way he fought to find her during the rebellion – she wrestled that tiny bit of information from Plutarch – and then to keep her alive afterwards, the way he never pressured her to come live in Twelve even though it was quite clear he would never move to the Capitol and for good reasons, the way he kept the nightmares at bay during the night and never made her feel bad for waking him up just because she was scared of the dark… "It's in the small things really." The way he always paused and told her she was beautiful when she wasn't wearing any make-up and wig, the way he stared at her sometimes when he thought she wasn't looking, the way his breath would catch every time they had to say goodbye for a while… "I just… know."

Katniss looked thoughtful for a few seconds. "And how do you know you love him?"

"Oh." That one was easy. "I carry him with me everywhere I go." She laughed at her own stupidity. She wasn't twenty anymore to act like an infatuated teenager. "It sounds a bit silly when you put it like that. I miss him when he's not with me. I think about him all the time to some degree. I never feel more at peace than when he's holding me in his arms." She smiled softly. "I just know I love him. Don't you?"

Katniss' smile was hesitant but eyed the cake with a softness Effie had never actually witnessed in the girl. She had changed over the years. "I know I need him. I know…" she hesitated. "I know he's the most important person in my life."

"Well, then, here you go." Effie grinned. "And you should go tell him right now. A lady should be courted but she also should go after what she wants."

Katniss wavered for a few minutes and then, with a parting word for Effie, she got up and left. Effie made her way back to Haymitch's slowly, with a smile on her lips. She found him slumped on his couch, with a bottle in his hand, but it didn't undermine her good mood.

"You, half-passed out on a couch with a bottle of whiskey…" she mused "It brings back a few memories."

He looked at her guiltily and put the bottle on the ground. "I'm not drunk." he grumbled, defensively. "You were supposed to be at Katniss' all afternoon."

Was a reason or an excuse for him to get drunk? She had long ago accepted that liquor would always be Haymitch's mistress. She got rid of her coat on the chair and went to sit in his lap – which was kind of ridiculous because, once again, she wasn't twenty anymore, but they were alone so it was alright. "I had the most interesting conversation with Katniss." she said, as his arms wrapped around her waist. "Did you know the children are wondering if you're ever going to do a honest woman out of me?"

Haymitch tensed up abruptly: his wandering hands stilled on her body, his eyes stayed stuck somewhere around her chest area and his smirk disappeared slowly. "It's none of their damn business what we do or not."

She rolled her eyes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Don't worry, Haymitch, I am not about to force you to marry me." She kissed her way down his jaw to his neck.

"Oh." He relaxed slightly before frowning. He placed his hand on her thigh but his mind was elsewhere. "Do you want to get married?"

"Are you proposing?" she joked, undoing the first button of his shirt to get better access to that particular point between his neck and his shoulder that always drove him mad when she nibbled on it.

"No." It was definitive and she couldn't help but be a little hurt by the harshness of his tone even though she perfectly knew why he didn't want anything to do with marriage. Marriage, or rather prospect of, had led the only other woman who had counted for him romantically to her grave. His hand ran up and down her thigh slowly but she knew him and his body well enough by now to know he wasn't actually thinking about what he was doing. She bit his neck more forcefully to get his attention. "Sweetheart, you're not a bloody vampire." he complained, pushing her away a little.

"I'm trying to seduce you and you're not paying attention." Effie huffed. "It's offending."

"I'm already seduced." Haymitch's smirk was back in place and he squeezed her leg playfully. "I'm also very aware you didn't answer my question. Do you want to get married?"

"What is the point of asking that if you're not proposing?" she retorted, shifting her right leg so she could straddle his lap. His hands shot to her waist.

"I don't… know." he hesitated. "I don't need a ring or a toasting or whatever to know what I feel for you or that I belong to you." He shrugged. "But if you want it… I mean… I don't care much." She was torn between tears and laughter but, in the end, the giggles won. He let his head fall on the back of the couch. "Awesome. Now, you're laughing at me."

She shook her head and kissed him full on the lips. Unconventional wasn't cutting his courting skills, there wasn't a word in all the languages in the world to describe it. "You just managed to say the most romantic and the most awful thing you ever said to me in one single sentence." She kissed him again. "Congratulation, that was the worst proposal in the history of proposals."

"It wasn't a proposal." he grumbled. "I'm just saying I don't mind either way."

She smiled tenderly at him. "Don't ever change." She didn't need cakes or flowers or even jewels. She needed him and his spontaneous unusual declarations of love.


	55. So Much For Damsels In Distress

prompt : Can you please do one where everyone is charming sponsor for their tributes and Effie finds a really touchy and annoying one that wants to make a move on her and the Three Finnick, Haymitch and even Chaff go in her dfefense cause the guy is really really treating her bad.

_**So Much For Damsels in Distress **_

Haymitch made his whiskey twirl in his glass absent-mildly, not actually listening to what Chaff was blabbering about. His eyes were on the opposite side of the sponsors lounge where Effie was in deep conversation with a man whose hair had been dyed blue. She was all smiles and high pitched laugh and he kept touching her arm when he spoke which was beginning to annoy Haymitch quite a bit.

"What are you doing hiding in a corner?" Finnick asked, joining them next to the drinks table.

Haymitch didn't bother answering. He could feel his face becoming gloomier by the second.

"Well, Haymitch is watching a guy hit on Trinket and I'm watching Haymitch slowly die of jealousy." Chaff snorted. "Always entertaining."

"So glad I didn't miss the part where he goes into the fray…" Finnick grinned, stretching his neck to see what the sponsor looked like. "I love the moment when Effie starts screaming bloody murder at him for interfering in her hopeless quest for sponsors."

Haymitch rolled his eyes. "Once. It happened _once_. And don't you have anything better to do than speculate on what exactly is going on between me and my escort?"

Chaff and Finnick exchanged a look. "Nope." they answered as one. Finnick's cheeky smile was grating on his nerves but Haymitch wasn't about to give him the pleasure of letting his teasing get to him.

The hand of blue-hair guy was now resting on a permanent basis on Effie's arm. She had stopped laughing and her smile was strained. "Something's wrong." Haymitch frowned.

"And here we go." Chaff sighed, in a matter of fact sort of voice.

Effie pulled her arm free and shook her head, still smiling but a lot less amiably than before. He couldn't see the guy's face but Haymitch didn't like at all the way the sponsor grabbed her wrist back. The man took a step forward, very much invading her personal space.

"Alright, I'm with Haymitch on that one." Finnick said, all trace of amusement gone from his voice.

Chaff let out a dubious noise but he still put his glass down which told Haymitch all he needed to know. It wasn't just him.

The guy pulled on Effie's wrist, dragging her closer to the exit and she was clearly debating between resisting or following. Her eyes caught Haymitch's, her mouth pinched in a thin line and then she quickly matched the sponsor's pace so that it wouldn't look as if she was being steered out of the room. She didn't want to cause a scandal.

"Son of a…" he mumbled, letting go of his glass and charging to the doors.

Chaff grabbed his arm before he was half-way there. "Now, remember killing a sponsor won't sit well with Snow, buddy. Why don't you let Finnick…" Finnick had moved more swiftly than he had and was already by the door. Haymitch got free from Chaff's hold on him and followed Four's mentor out. "Or we can all get killed because someone's taken too many liberties with your escort, that works too..." Chaff shouted after him.

Haymitch barged out of the room, his blood already boiling in sheer rage but he didn't find what he expected… Instead of Effie being attacked, he found Finnick laughing madly and the blue hair guy moaning in pain on the ground, clutching his groin. Effie, arms folded in front of her chest, was shaking her head in obvious disappointment.

"Let that be a lesson to you." she chided the sponsor. "If a lady says no, it means no."

It didn't take long for Chaff to join in Finnick's hilarity. "So much for being damsel in distress, Haymitch! Your girl knows how to kick some ass…"

Haymitch gaped a little at Effie.

"Must you always be so crass, Chaff?" She winced in displeasure. "And I am most definitely _not_ Haymitch's girl."

"Are you alright?" Haymitch asked, because they were all missing the point in his opinion. His hand shot for her arm on its own accord. "Did he hurt you?"

"Careful or you will end up like that one." Finnick laughed, before nodding to the man on the ground who was still trying to get his breathing back under control.

"Let's get out of here." he suggested, electing to ignore his friends' gibes.

Effie nodded her assent and they went to the elevators, leaving Chaff and Finnick to take care of the sponsor.

"I don't think we will find sponsors this year after that stunt." she sighed, once they were alone.

"Sweetheart, if a man tries to put his paws all over you like that one did, you can do whatever you just did again, sponsor or not." His eyebrows shot up. "How the hell did you get rid of him anyway?" He eyed her dress distrustfully, she could barely move in that…

Effie stared at him with that particular expression that said he was being stupid. "I took self-defense classes, of course."

"Of course." he snorted.

She frowned. "What was I suppose to do? Wait for you to come and rescue me?"

"I was going to." He shrugged.

"I can do my own rescuing, thank you very much." she huffed, but her lips twitched in amusement. "Although, it's nice to know you care."

"I don't, don't get any ideas into your pretty head." he denied instinctively. "Finnick was worried, that's all." She wasn't fooled, he could see it in her eyes. There was a twinkle of mirth dancing there.

"Why, I must thank him later, then." she mused. "Since it was _his_ idea."

"Whatever." He rolled his eyes.

The elevator chimed to indicate they had reached the penthouse. He was about to step out when she grabbed his wrist softly and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you anyway." she whispered before sauntering out, leaving him confused and a bit dazed. He stayed rooted to the spot for so long the doors slid shut.


	56. For the Love of the Capitol

Prompt: perhaps a oneshot where Effie is threatened with the prospect of Katniss and Peeta being publicly killed to stop the rebellion unless, considering her closeness with district 12, she can kill Haymitch first (as he is one of the main people behind it) and then she goes to do it while he's asleep but he wakes up or something and idk angst bye (ps your writing's amazing bye again)

_This got darkish at some point so warning for a bit of violence. And angst. But who am I kidding, I live for angst XD_

_**For the Love of the Capitol **_

Effie crept along the silent corridors of the train, barefoot, wigless and with very shaky hands. The small gun they had given her fitted smugly in her hand, it was light but it felt so heavy she could swear her arm was made of lead.

She stopped in front of his door and stayed there, trying and failing to control her breathing. She thought about what would happen if she didn't push that door and finally _did_ it. She had been dancing the same dance for days now, walking silently to his door in the night only to run away at the last possible moment. But it was over, it was the last night before they got to the Capitol to wrap the Victory Tour with the banquet and if she didn't do it now… If Haymitch was still alive when they reached the Capitol in the morning, Katniss and Peeta would be executed. Two for one, they had told her, which lives would she rather save?

Each and every one, she would have answered if she hadn't been too terrified to speak. She wasn't a killer, she wasn't a murderer, she… They had given her poison to spice his drink with, to make it look like an accident, and a gun as last resort, in case anything went awry but she couldn't do it. She couldn't poison his liquor, it was cowardly and cruel and…

She could feel the tears, hot and burning, rolling on her cheeks as she fumbled for the door handle. She couldn't do this, she knew. She couldn't. And yet, she couldn't let Katniss and Peeta die either. Two for one, it wasn't fair. Haymitch would probably want it that way. Save the children.

The door opened noiselessly and she stepped inside as silently as she could. The room was dark but the blinds weren't closed and she could make out his figure sprawled on the bed, the covers had been kicked to the foot of the bed. He was bare-chested, wearing sweatpants and laying on his stomach – not as drunk as she thought then, if he was wearing nightclothes – half of his face had sunk in the pillow but she could see the scowl and the tight line of his mouth. His right hand was under the pillow but the other one kept twitching, he was having a nightmare.

She couldn't do this.

But Peeta and Katniss… Public executions were neither dignified nor clean, she could give Haymitch that : a clean and dignified death. She aimed the gun at his back but her hands were shaking so much she was afraid to miss. She had one chance at this, the noise would alert everyone on the train. She carefully did not think about Cinna and Portia's face when they would see what she had done, as for Peeta and Katniss… They would hate her, but what else was new?

She tiptoed closer to him. Closer was worse. She had to suppress the urge to brush his hair out of his face. How many times had she helped him get to his bed over the years? How many times had he hold her while she cried her eyes out about tributes they had not managed to save? How many times had they smiled or glanced at each other in complicity? They were friends – and friends was a feeble word to describe their bond – they trusted each other. She trusted him like she never trusted anyone else. Wasn't that precisely the reason they had chosen her for this particular task? Because she was so close to Twelve's victors? To _him_? It would be easy for her, they had said, easier in any case than to send someone to take care of this discretely. He was an enemy of the state, why would she hesitate? She would only be doing what a good Capitol citizen should do : protect the Capitol.

Effie realized she wasn't a good Capitol citizen because she really couldn't do it. Even to save Katniss and Peeta, she couldn't do it. The gun was so _heavy_ in her hand. Katniss and Peeta, she had to save Katniss and Peeta… She was standing right next to the bed, all she had to do was aim and pull the trigger. But she couldn't. She just… she _couldn't_. And if she couldn't…

She reached out to touch his shoulder, to wake him up, because they were so screwed either way she could as well tell him everything. She hadn't noticed the change of pace in his breathing. The second she outstretched her left hand, he grabbed her wrist, kicked her leg and before she had understood what was happening, she was pinned to his mattress, he was straddling her hips, the blade of his knife was pressed against her throat and his eyes were fixed on the gun in her hand.

"Drop it." he ordered. His voice was cold and flat but she saw the betrayal flash on his face.

"Haymitch…" she breathed out, desperate for him to understand.

"Drop the gun, Effie." he growled, not exactly pressing the knife down but shifting it enough she understood he _would_ hurt her if he had to. Her numb fingers pushed the gun away and he kicked it off the bed with his free hand. "Good." But it wasn't good. He wasn't looking at her. The muscles of his jaw were contracted and his breathing was quick. "How long?"

"Haymitch, please…" She could feel the tears trailing down her cheeks. "_Please_…"

"_How_ _long _have you been working for them ?" he hissed, still not looking her in the eye.

"I'm not." she denied, instinctively grabbing his wrist but it was a bad choice because he tensed and the knife slightly grazed her skin, enough to draw blood. She couldn't say she cared though.

"Oh, you just happened to decide you wanted to kill me, then?" he snorted bitterly. "What are you, a serial killer, now? I will give you that, you're a good actress, sweetheart. I swallowed it all, hook, line and sinker."

"Haymitch, you don't know…" she tried but he met her eyes then and she fell silent, shocked by the amount of pain, hurt and betrayal she saw there.

"Drop the act." he ordered. "Acting helpless won't help you get out of this one. You wanted me dead, that's enough reason for me to kill you in my book."

"You won't kill me." She whispered, ignoring the way his mouth pinched in displeasure.

"Yeah, what makes you so sure?" he mocked. "All I have to do is slit your throat. You're dead in less than thirty seconds."

She couldn't hide a shiver of fear because he was capable of it, she knew. He had killed before. He knew how to do it. But he also hated it and regretted it every day and he wouldn't willingly add another face to his nightmares. Yet, even though she knew he wouldn't hurt her, the tears wouldn't stop falling.

He seemed surprised to feel her relax under him. She let go of his wrist to place her hand on his cheek, stroking his stubble with her thumb. "You won't kill me because I couldn't kill you." Her thumb slid to his lips but he stretched his neck to get rid of her hand.

"That's shitty reasoning, sweetheart." He didn't remove the knife but he pulled it back enough she could breathe without fear of her throat being slit open. "Stop crying."

She would have loved to. "They're going to execute Katniss and Peeta." she said. "They're going to…" She tried to swallow back the sob but it was hard when he was looking at her with so much distrust and even a glimpse of hatred. "It was you or them. They made me choose. They said… They said…" She wasn't making much sense but the hatred gradually disappeared. "_Haymitch_…" She wanted him to hug her terror away. He gave the best hugs, he always made her feel safe and protected when she was in his arms, it was…

"Tell me everything." he commanded instead.

So she did. She told him how a black car had stopped next to her on the street, how she had been ordered to step inside… She told him about her brief meeting with President Snow, how he had said one could wonder about where her allegiances were… She told him about how he had said Haymitch was trying to prompt a new rebellion and what the new victors represented to the rebels… She told him about the impossible choice of killing one of the main instigators of the rebel movement or watching the symbols the rebels had embraced being put down like dogs… She told him about the poison Peacekeepers had given her and the small gun that felt so heavy… She told him she couldn't bring herself to do it… She told him how she was a horrible person because she felt relieved to not be able to kill him when that meant Peeta and Katniss were going to their death.

When she was done talking her weeping mostly receded to hiccups and Haymitch was looking at her with a blank face.

"I'm sorry." she murmured in honest despair. "I am so, _so_ very sorry."

He shook his head and threw his knife on the nightstand, before passing a hand on his face. "That's _fucking_ perfect." he growled. "Everything I needed." He lifted his weight from her hips and climbed off the bed to enter the en-suited bathroom. Effie stayed where she was, she hid her face in her hands and tried to get her breathing back under control because she could feel the panic setting in. "Wonderful." he kept mumbling in the other room. "_Fucking _wonderful." The mattress dipped next to her and something cool was pressed against her throat, it stung a bit and Haymitch carefully wiped the blood away so she conclude the cloth was damp with alcohol or antiseptic at any rate.

"What are we going _to_ _do_?" she whimpered. They had less than five hours before the train reached the Capitol.

"Nothing, what do you want to do?" he sighed. "Kill me? Didn't work so well for you, sweetheart. Word of advice, next time, don't get so close."

"I didn't want to kill you." she protested, removing her hands from her face to look at him properly. It was easier now that the bathroom lights were lit, she could see every line of his face. "_Never_, Haymitch."

His eyes softened slightly. "Yeah, I'm trying to work around that."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Obvious, isn't it?" He reached for her hair with hesitation, brushing back a wayward strand that was stuck to her cheek by her tears. "Effie, if they wanted me or the kids dead, we would be dead. Publicly executing the kids would send the Capitol in uproar, no one would understand why and Snow _don't_ want them to know about the rebellion. As for me… If they wanted to kill me they wouldn't send a clumsy escort to do the job, they have other ways. That wasn't about me, or the kids for that matter, it was about you."

A chill crept down her spine. "Why?"

Haymitch shrugged like it was evident. "Because you're too close to me." He leaned against the headboard tiredly. At the way his hand kept clenching and unclenching, she knew he was craving a drink. "They're testing the water, trying to see if you're involved. I'm sorry, that's my fault. I shouldn't have let you get so close."

She frowned and scrambled in a sitting position before placing a hand on his bare arm. "Never apologize for that again."

When he opened his eyes, they were pained. He licked his lips nervously. "I better apologize because I am going to have to hurt you." He stroke her cheek with the back of his hand and then let it trail down to her throat thoughtfully. "They have to think you really tried, do you understand? And from now on, you have to act as if you hate me. Fear me, even. Shouldn't be too hard, though."

She shook her head in denial. "I could never…"

His hand closed around her throat, crushing her windpipe. He added his other hand and she was left clawing at his arms, his chest and even his face to stop him. Her sight went back for a second and she slumped on her back but still he didn't relinquish his hold. She could swear she was about to choke to death when he finally let go. She coughed and sucked up air and it _hurt_ so much to breathe but pain had never felt so good either because that pain meant life and life was good.

Haymitch slumped next to her, pressing his forehead to her shoulder. "I'm sorry." he begged. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He kept repeating those words but it took her a few minutes to understand them and to realize she wasn't the only one shaking.

"It's okay." she croaked. "Haymitch, it's okay."

It hurt to speak, her voice was all distorted and rough. She understood what he had just done: he had saved her. When they arrived in the Capitol, in the morning, and Snow wanted to know why Haymitch was still alive, she could show him the bruises that wouldn't take long to appear and cry about how she had tried and failed to kill him. She ran her shaking fingers through his hair soothingly, wondering how and when her life had gotten so complicated. Finally, after the longest time, he pulled himself together and lifted his head. His grey eyes were shining with guilt and fear.

"Effie…" he whispered with so much self-loathing she couldn't bear it.

She propped herself on her elbow and, locked a hand behind his neck and leaned in, kissing him like she had always wanted to kiss him but always denied herself the right to. It was a messy kiss and an amazing one as far as she was concerned, except she had to pull back and wince in pain because it really hurt to swallow. Guilt was written all over his face and he _finally_ wrapped his arms around her and held her close, pressing soft kisses to her bruising throat.

They ended up with him on his back and her snuggled against him. She wanted to ask what they were headed to and what was going to happen now, but her throat wasn't allowing her questions so she kept silent, focusing on the rise and fall of his chest under her cheek. If she could have talked that wasn't what she would have said anyway, she would have told him she could never have chosen the Capitol over him. She had to trust he knew that.


	57. Stay Alive

Prompt : Could you write one where Effie isn't left behind in Mockingjay and she sees Portia's execution while she's in 13 with Haymitch? (Sorry about it, I don't even know why I actually want to read something like this...)

_**Stay Alive **_

Haymitch scowled at Plutarch's argument and waved it away. He was about to remind him that they couldn't afford that kind of reasoning when Effie stepped out of the control room and into the deserted corridor.

"I need to know what you've decided about Katniss." she said, folding her arms. "I don't know how you people expect me to work like that."

Haymitch rolled his eyes. It was a good thing no one was there to hear her speak in this way. Even though she had been long disillusioned about the Hunger Games, she hadn't taken too kindly to Thirteen and the rebellion. Haymitch hadn't given her much of a choice in the matter, he had told her she was coming with him and that had been that despite Plutarch's protests or Coin's anger. The thought of leaving her behind to be incarcerated or tortured or God knew what made him want to hit something, so he had brought her with him to the hovercraft when he had ran away from the Capitol. She had been mostly relieved and grateful until rebels had forced her to strip off her wig, make-up and fancy clothes. The grey uniform wasn't suiting her, she hated it with a passion and she was getting more and more frustrated everyday with her hair that wouldn't _ever_ live up to her expectation. She was the only one caring about that, as he had told her enough times, but she couldn't quite believe everyone wasn't as obsessed by her appearance as she was.

It would be laughable and really ridiculous if she wasn't so genuinely surprised and touched every time he told her she looked beautiful just like that.

"Sweetheart, you really need to work on…"

"Excuse-me, you will want to watch this." Fulvia said, popping her head out of the room and disappearing inside again. They all went in after her and paused in front of the biggest screen in the room. Plutarch's office where he spent all his free time spying on the Capitol tv programs and trying to hack into them was littered with computers and screens. "The prep team is already down. They're about to execute the stylist."

The words were not uncaring but slightly offhand, Plutarch's assistant didn't know Portia at all. Something dropped in Haymitch's stomach as he watched Peeta's stylist walk, chin high but wobbly lips, toward the firing squad.

"No…" Effie whimpered.

He blindly reached for her hand, knowing how bad this was going to be for her. He liked Portia well enough but he had lived far from her, Effie and Portia had become close friends after the last Games, though. She had modeled for Portia and Cinna, she had gone to parties with them…

As Portia turned to face the firing squad so obviously afraid but also so stubbornly refusing to show it, Effie turned suddenly and pressed her own face to his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her waist and rested his chin on the top of her head, ignoring Plutarch's sympathizing gaze. The pain of Portia's death belonged to Effie and him, not to Plutarch or Fulvia. They didn't know Portia like he and Effie did. They didn't love her, like he and Effie did.

They had already lost so many people…

He held her tighter, unable to get rid of the insidious thought that it could easily have been her on that screen. He didn't avert his eyes when they started to fire. He felt like he owed Portia that much, she was another person he had failed to save after all. Effie flinched at each detonation. She wasn't sobbing but he could feel his shirt getting damp with her tears.

When it was over, Plutarch turned the screen off. Effie's raspy intakes of breath were the only noises in the silence.

"You should… take the rest of the afternoon off." Plutarch suggested. "I will cover for you with Coin."

Effie started to protest but Haymitch immediately accepted. She gripped his hand tight on their way to her room and managed to keep it together until he had closed the door of the small closet that they had assigned to her. There was barely enough room for a single-bed and a chest of drawer. She had found a broken mirror, somewhere, and had proudly hung it on the wall. His room was far more spacious and comfortable but, for some reason, they always seemed to end up in hers.

She climbed on the bed and curled up on herself before starting to sob brokenly. He went to lay behind her with a sigh, gathering her in his arms and grumbling about the lack of space. It was mostly for show. They didn't particularly need space, since the Quell, Haymitch had trouble falling asleep if she wasn't with him. They had lost Cinna, Chaff, Johanna, Annie, Peeta… He couldn't bear to lose her too. He worried about her as soon as she was out of his sight.

"It was painless." he told her, pressing a kiss to her neck. It might sound like a small mercy, but small mercies were all they had left in this war. "It could have been worse, sweetheart."

"Forgive me if I don't find that comforting." she snapped. She gripped his arms though, as if she was afraid he would leave her to her grief. "I'm sorry, I'm…"

"That's okay." He closed his eyes, breathing in the smell of her hair. She couldn't use her usual flower shampoo but it still smelled like _her_ and it helped his anxiety to slowly melt away. She was there, she was safe. He could never put that into words, he knew, because as clever as he could sometimes be, words weren't his forte but he didn't think he would have been as functional if she hadn't been in Thirteen with him. He wished he could, though, because she deserved to hear it.

"She had done nothing wrong." Effie whispered, between two sobs. "She was so kind and…" She turned around in his arms and buried her face in his shoulder again. "Hold me tighter, please."

He did as she requested, feeling a bit shaken up himself. Cinna's death had been easier to accept, after all, he had known as soon as he had seen the Monckingjay dress that Cinna's living hours were limited. But Portia… He hadn't thought Cinna would have been foolish enough to involve her in this stupid plan of his and she was so much the Capitol darling that Haymitch had thought she would be alright. Of course, Effie too had been famous and adored throughout the Capitol and he had still taken her with him… His reasoning was flawed. He should have at least tried to get Portia out…

"There's nothing you could have done." Effie said quietly.

Her weeping had died down while he had been busy dwelling upon his mistakes. His shirt would probably never recover but he didn't care much about that, it would made Coin scowl and everything that made Coin scowl also made his day.

"Sorry." he whispered. What an inadequate word that was… You could say "sorry I drank all the liquor" or "sorry I soiled your dress" but could you actually say "sorry I failed to save you" ? Or "sorry you're dead." ? Could he, in good conscience, say to Effie : "Sorry your best friend is dead" ? And yet, was there any other word to say?

"No, Haymitch…" She let out a sigh and propped herself on her elbow to look at him. He kind of wanted to avoid her eyes but he figured he had been enough of a coward for that day. She frowned and brushed a hand against his cheek. "There is nothing you could have done to save her, stop feeling guilty right now."

He didn't ask how she could possibly know what he was thinking about, she always knew. It was a superpower of hers, it seemed. He didn't bother trying to explain why he couldn't stop feeling guilty, he wasn't sure she could understand.

"It could have been you." he replied instead. It was calm and said in a matter of fact sort of voice but she still noticed the slight tinge of panic underneath it all.

"It wasn't." She pressed a soft kiss to his lips, her lips barely brushed against his. It was an invitation he was familiar with but he didn't take her up on it. He couldn't. Not when his imagination was leading him on to countries he was desperate to never revisit again. The picture of her standing in front of a firing squad was so vivid in his mind… "You saved me." She gripped his chin gently and forced him to look at her. "Haymitch, I'm right _here_, you saved me."

He blinked quickly but there was no hiding his inner panic from her. "I could have watched you die on that screen." His right hand clenched her hip. "There was nothing I could have done to save you. You would have been cold and dead in the Capitol and I would have been here and…"

She kissed the end of that sentence away. It was a forceful kiss, not pleasant at all. Their teeth clashed, their nose bumped, it was clumsy and they were _never_ clumsy. It shocked him enough he managed to get rid of the awful image of her corpse.

"I'm _right_ _here_." she said against his lips. "I'm safe. You saved me." The next kiss was softer, slower. "I'm alright."

His breathing eased. She _was _safe.

"Stay that way, would you?" he begged, knowing it was a helpless plea. There was a war raging and wars required casualties, the probabilities that both of them made it out unscathed… weren't good.

He wanted to say that he loved her and couldn't see himself living without her. He wanted to say she had crept on his heart while he wasn't looking and had seared her name upon it. He wanted to say he belonged to her like he had never belonged to anyone else as utterly ridiculous as it sounded coming from a grown man who was fighting for freedom. He wanted to say that and a thousand other stupid things but words failed him once again. "Stay alive." was all that came to his lips.


	58. Small Price to Pay

prompt : ok so you've probably seen the post about people teasing effie about "hayfever" and I really think it would be awesome to see you write it c:

_**Small Price to Pay **_

Springs in Twelve weren't Effie's cup of tea but, to be fair, lots of things in Twelve weren't her cup of tea. She sneezed again to Peeta's upmost amusement.

"I _hate_ those cursed trees." she lamented, glaring at the pollen flying in the air.

They were sitting on a blanket, right in the middle of the meadow, surrounded by a picnic basket, dirty dishes and a half-eaten cake. Katniss, her daughter and Haymitch were a few yards away. Haymitch and Katniss were taking turn pushing the child on a wooden swing. It was a sight to behold : Haymitch Abernathy being at the beck and call of a six years old. It made Effie smile and she forgot her discomfort for a while. Until she sneezed again, that was.

"Oh, damned District! Must you have so much greenery?" She dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief, careful not to smudge her make-up. Fashion had changed and wigs and heavy white powder were things of the past which was a relief because the lighter make-up was low-maintenance compared to what she had to do when Games were still up.

Peeta glanced at her with sympathy. "You shouldn't have come, I told you. You could have waited a few weeks, your allergies wouldn't have been as bad then."

"And miss your daughter's birthday?" Effie huffed. "I don't think so. Hay fever is a small price to pay."

A teasing grin appeared on Peeta's lips and he leaned back on his elbows so he could see Effie and his family at the same time. "Yes, about that… Are you sure you're just here to celebrate?"

"Well, of course." she frowned. "Why else?"

The sound of Haymitch's laugh filled the air and it was such an incongruous event, she couldn't help but smile softly. It was good to see him like that. He was better than she had ever seen him, still drinking of course but pacing himself for the sake of the little girl that always seemed to be running around his legs – or for fear of what Katniss and Peeta would do if he ever let the child see him actually wasted out of his mind.

"I'm just wondering what kind of hay fever you have, that's all." Peeta joked. "For someone who hates Twelve so much, you visit an awful lot."

"I don't hate Twelve." she denied. "I just deplore it still doesn't have the same quality of life as the Capitol." Because her life would be really _easier_ if she could get whatever she wanted whenever she felt like it when she was in Twelve as she could in the Capitol. But things hadn't changed _that_ much. "And my visits are frequent because each time I come back, your daughter has grown at least two inches."

It might have been a slight exaggeration. She visited Twelve so frequently she was very present in the child's life. Her friends in the Capitol didn't really understand why she traveled so much but what could she do? Every time Katniss or Peeta called her and gave the phone to their daughter – who inevitably said she missed her – she couldn't help herself, she packed her bag and caught a train. At that point, it felt like living in two places at the same time.

"What about Haymitch?" Peeta insisted.

Her eyes instinctively fell on the former victor who was busy pushing the swing "higher and higher, Unc' Haymitch!" and being scowled by Katniss because high was one thing and _recklessly_ high was another.

"Haymitch doesn't mind me using his spare room." she stated. He also didn't mind her using his room and his bed but she wasn't about to tell Peeta that, an unmarried lady shouldn't advertise that kind of behavior.

"And?" Peeta sounded amused but also a tad concerned.

"And?" she repeated, falling back on her habit to play dumb. It had always worked out better for her than anything else.

Peeta rolled his eyes. "Have you caught the _Haymitch fever_, Effie?" His grin grew impish. "I don't know how plainer than that I can get."

Her cheeks flushed bright red and there wasn't powder to hide that kind of tell-tale anymore. "Peeta!" she yelped. "You can't ask me that kind of questions. Honestly! This is _very_ rude."

"Sorry." he backtracked immediately. "Katniss and I were wondering. Although, I noticed you didn't say no."

"I…" she started but fell silent when she spied the others heading their way.

Haymitch sat next to her in a concert of cracking joints. His knees weren't as good as they once were. "Your girl is going to be the death of me." he told Peeta, while the child threw herself at her father. "What were you two talking about?"

He leaned back on his hands slightly, so his shoulder was brushing Effie's. She could feel her blush deepening.

"Oh, we were talking about Effie's _hayfever_." Peeta joked.

"Really?" Katniss asked with a grin of her own. "That _hayfever_ must be a pain, isn't it, Effie?"

She glared at them both. Was that a recurring joke between them?

"That's what you get for living in concrete and always breathing synthetic air." Haymitch snorted. "If you lived in Twelve, you would get used to it."

"Are you going to?" Katniss and Peeta's daughter asked, clearly excited at the prospect. The dark-haired child stopped trying to steal another piece of cake from her father to bounce in front of Effie, clapping her hands with happiness. "Are you staying here forever and ever, Auntie?"

"I…" she started only to close her mouth, unable to answer that question. "I don't think Uncle Haymitch was serious, sweetie."

"Oh, I think he was." Peeta said. "And I also think it's time to head back. What do you say, munchkin?" He took Katniss' outstretched hand to help him get up and then grabbed his daughter around the middle. "We will leave you two to talk."

Effie tried to protest but before she could even finish a sentence, Katniss had gathered the used dishes in the basket and they were gone, the only thing left behind being the woolen blanket she and Haymitch were sitting on.

"This looks like a conspiracy." she sighed, watching Katniss and Peeta's departing back. The girl was running in front of them, already out of sight. "Did you plan this?"

"I never plan anything, sweetheart." Haymitch refuted, his trademark smirk on his lips.

"You _always_ plan everything." she sighed fondly. "Remember who you're talking to, Haymitch. I know you." She hadn't been the only one playing dumber than she was all this years.

"Do you, now?" He lifted his eyebrows in challenge.

She didn't disappoint. "Do you want me to come and live in Twelve?"

"I want a lot of things." Haymitch shrugged. "Question is what do _you_ want?"

She wanted… She wanted Haymitch and the children in her life, everyday. But… "I won't stop going to the Capitol." she warned him. "I would miss it too much." Although she probably could be satisfied with a few visits here and there. There was no one in the Capitol she would miss as much as she missed Haymitch and the rest of their makeshift families when she was there.

"Whatever." He rolled his eyes. "When did I ever stop you from doing anything?"

Quite a few times but he was also usually very drunk when he did so she supposed it didn't actually count.

"Are you sure?" she asked worryingly. They worked now but if they lived together, she was afraid all they would do was bicker and yell at each other and… And she realized that was mostly what they already did all day long. It was just their way of saying they loved each other, she guessed.

"Relatively." he said, leaning in to kiss her neck.

"Haymitch, we're outside!" she flushed. "Anybody could see…"

"Don't care." he breathed out against her skin. She tilted her head back against her best judgment to give him better access. "You're mine. Everybody should know it." He kissed and nibbled on _that_ spot that always made her… She locked a hand behind his neck and pulled him in for a real kiss. To hell with propriety. "Plus." he mumbled against her lips. "We need to keep that _hayfever_ of yours burning, don't we?"

"Haymitch!" She had wanted it to sound stern but his hand wandered to her thigh and it came out as a breathless giggle.

Hay fever really _was_ a small price to pay, after all.


	59. Come Back To Me

prompt : Maybe a one-shot set very recently after the rebellion, and very very shortly after Effie was rescued, where Effie is so shaken and so tormented (largely in her mind; maybe even having had trackerjacker venom or something of the sort) that Haymitch gets frustrated, wishing so hard for her to get better that he accidentally takes it out on her, getting angry at her unresponsive answers and whatever the venom did (although of course, it is only because he cares and wishes so much)? Just an idea x

_**Come Back To Me**_

Her bedroom, at first sight, looked empty but Haymitch didn't let that fool him. He knew she was there, she couldn't leave if no one let her out and _no one_ would let her out in the state she was in. Hospitals were overflowing with injured people and physically she was fine so he and Plutarch had arranged for her to stay at Snow's Mansion with them, it worked better that way because Aurelius could treat her at the same time he treated Peeta.

"Effie?" he called out. He let the door slid shut behind him with a wariness he was slightly ashamed of. He never knew what he was in for with her those days. Sometimes she was perfectly fine but most often she was… "Sweetheart?"

She let out a whimper that made him spin on his heels. She was huddled in the right corner by the door, her face pressed against her knees, her reddish blond hair all spiky. Bad day, then. It always was when she was looking that disheveled.

"Effie?" He stepped closer but didn't make the mistake of coming at arm range. He had taken a leaf out of Katniss and Peeta's book, distance was sometimes best - as hard as it was to keep his distance.

"Go away, go away, go away." she kept chanting. "Go away, go away, go away."

_Really_ bad day. Aurelius had said she was getting better… He couldn't wait to get his hand on that clown.

"Sweetheart, calm down. Try to breathe." It was futile, he knew. The best thing he could do was leave while she was still mostly coherent and he was still mostly unhurt by her rejection. It had gotten ugly right after they had rescued her, she had tried to attack him, she had shouted things at his face without even flinching, accusing him of such things…

Aurelius thought they had tried the tracker jacker on her before they injected it to Peeta. Except it wasn't Katniss they had trained her to hate.

He should leave her to the doctors and not come back until she expressed the wish to see him, he supposed, but… Haymitch was selfish and he missed his friend. Katniss was still in intensive care after the bombings of the Capitol that had cost Prim's life, her mother had left for four, Finnick was dead, Annie was pregnant and grieving, Johanna was even more lost than he was and Peeta was secluded somewhere, working hard with Aurelius to get better. He had only Plutarch left and Plutarch was with Coin more often than not those days, trying to appease and counterbalance her aggressive tendencies. Haymitch had fallen back on his best friend called liquor but it wasn't the same thing as human companionship and Effie had always been good at that even back when he couldn't really stand her. They were friends and he missed her.

The venom they had used on her wasn't as potent as the one they injected Peeta with according to the doctors, she wasn't having any hallucination per se but she had trouble distinguishing between what was really happening around her and what was happening inside her head – not mentioning the false memories they had implanted. She was withdrawn and when she got worked up about something, no one could get to her.

It was made worse by the fact that some days, she was actually very much like the Effie he remembered. Or she _acted_ like her old self, he wouldn't put that past her. She was always distinctly uncomfortable in his presence at any rate.

"Sweetheart." He tried again, more firmly.

He was tired of all that crap. Katniss had almost burned alive and he _wasn't_ impatient for her to wake up and remember what happened to Prim, Peeta was battling with his demons, Finnick was _dead_ as were so many others… He was tired of all that crap and he was too sober to deal with it that day.

"Go away." she shook her head. "Wake up. Wake up. Wake up." She dug her nails in her own arm and clawed at it, probably in a desperate attempts to _wake_ _up_.

There was no waking up from this nightmare. Haymitch had tried.

Throwing caution to the wind, he crouched in front of her and clasped the hand butchering her own skin. She lifted her head then and stared at him with such despair and loathing and affection, it physically pained him to see how hurt, how conflicted she was. Something was missing in her eyes. They had broken her in so many pieces he was afraid some had been lost and could never been retrieved again.

He held her eyes for a long time, long enough that her quick breathing slowed down to something more regular.

"Don't do that." he chided her softly, moving her hand away from her bleeding arm. It was just scratches but… he had seen enough blood for a lifetime. He looked around but couldn't see anything to treat her arm with. Her room was furnished with the bare minimum: a bed and one block furniture that couldn't be broken or used as weapon, the bathroom was in the same state of bareness. There wasn't even a mirror. It wasn't quite a suicide watch but it was close. The doctors were afraid she would hurt herself during one of her episode. "Always said your nails were _bloody_ dangerous." He wiped the small traces of blood away with his sleeve. Not perfect but better.

"You're dead." she whispered. "This isn't real."

Haymitch closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath through his nose to remain calm. _Really_, really bad day. He thought he preferred the ones when she accused him of horrible things to those when she couldn't say if she was really free or still in the Capitol prison. Because when she was like that she was sure he was dead during the bombings of Thirteen. They had planted the image of him dying in her brain and the doctors couldn't get it out no matter how much Haymitch told her he was alive and whole.

And it hurt.

It hurt _so bloody much_.

He could take her hating his guts, he hated himself more often than not, but when she thought he was dead, _she_ was hurting and _that_ he couldn't bear. According to reports they had found, it was his supposed death that had made her stubborn resistance crumble to dust, after that, they had destroyed him in her mind, painting him as a brute who hated her, insulted her and hurt her at every opportunity, someone who wanted her dead and who had left her behind to be killed. It wasn't that far from the truth either.

"Sweetheart, we went over this." he sighed. "I'm real, you're free. Nobody's dead."

She flinched at his clipped tone and he wondered if she would switch to aggressive mode and try to claw his eyes out like she had done the last time.

"I want to wake up." she whimpered, pressing her hands against her face.

She looked so frail, so… lost. Effie never looked like that. Effie was strong and confident and unfazed by everything, she wouldn't even blink when he threw a bottle at the wall and it shattered in a hundred pieces. Effie never wept like a child if she could help it, she bottled it up and let out everything at once when it was too much to bear or when he was sure she was alone. _Effie wasn't helpless_.

"Then do!" he yelled, slamming his fist against the ground because he needed the pain to clear his head. He wanted a drink, scratch that he wanted _a liquor cart_ and he wanted to drown into alcohol until he couldn't remember his own name. He wanted to forget everything. He wanted to forget how much he was hurting because it was easier and above all… "Wake up. Snap out of this. I'm not dead, I'm right here, and bloody hell, Effie, _I_ _need you._"

Because she was his rock in every storm. No matter how much he drank, she always made sure he wasn't going to die of alcohol poisoning. No matter how hurtful and disgusting he got, she always tried to soothe his anxiety away with a kind word and a kind hand. No matter how bad things got, she was always there, trying to keep their hope up and to cheer them up. Of course all of that was bloody irritating but it was also exactly what he needed and Haymitch was _selfish_. He wanted that small part of comfort for himself.

"Snap out of this!" he commanded again, but the fight left him when he saw her flinching away from him. Crouching wasn't good for his knees, so he sat down against the wall with a sigh, making sure there was enough space between them she wouldn't feel crowded. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

He closed his eyes again and leaned his head against the wall. He didn't know how much longer he could keep doing that.

"You're dead." she whispered, her voice cracking in some places. "I _saw_ you die."

"Did you?" he snorted. Maybe he was dead. Maybe he had gone straight to hell and that was what all this was : punishment. "Come back to me, sweetheart." he begged, not even ashamed.

"I tried to." she confessed. "They wouldn't let me."

He frowned and turned his head to study her, confused. "What?"

"I tried to die." Her eyebrows furrowed together, like she had trouble remembering – which was probably the case. "You were dead. They were using me to hurt Peeta. I tried to…" Her eyes filled with tears and he grabbed her hand. There was a lump in his throat, every time he though it couldn't get worse something like that happened. "I can't remember what's _real_." She pressed her free hand against her head. "I can't…"

"I'm real." he repeated for the thousandth time since they had gotten her out of her cell. "You're safe. We found you." He squeezed her fingers gently. "Why is that so difficult to believe?" It was unfair he knew, it wasn't her fault, it was the venom's. It confused her and she couldn't help it but…

"Because it looks like a dream." She closed her eyes and turned her head away from him but she clutched his hand. "You're dead. I saw you die. People don't come back from the dead, Haymitch."

But he was _never_ dead in the first place!

"Effie, the venom…" he had done that speech so many times he knew it by heart.

"I know." she cut in. "It still feels wrong. Good things don't happen to us." She shook her head. "We're never that lucky."

He shrugged before pulling on her hand a little to make her look at him again. "We got lucky sometimes."

"But every time we win, we lose." she retorted. "I'm still in that cell and they're toying with me. It's so cold and lonely and _I_ _want you to save me _so much, don't you understand?" He hated every one of the tears running down her hollow cheeks. "They want me to believe. They give me this perfect world and the second I believe in it they're going to take it back and I will lose you all over again and I can't, Haymitch. _I can't."_

There was a hundred things he could have replied to that. That she wasn't going to lose him ever again, that he should have taken her with him in the first place, that he shouldn't have entrusted her safety to Plutarch, that everything she was going through was his fault and that if he could have gone back in time he would have done things very differently…

"This world isn't perfect." he snapped. "In fact, it's a bloody mess." The doctors had forbidden him several times to upset her with news she wouldn't want to hear but what did they know? They didn't know her like he did. "Finnick's dead."

Her eyes widened but she didn't start sobbing like he had feared she would. "Who else?"

"Katniss' sister." For the first time since the Capitol was taken, he let his mask fall. He didn't have to pretend not to care because she knew he did. She had always known. He couldn't fool her. "The kid is a mess, Peeta isn't much better. Cinna and Portia are both dead." She was clinging to his hand but he didn't stop there. "Half of Panem is in ruins and I'm kind of afraid we've brought down a tyrant to put another in his place." He hadn't confided as much to Plutarch yet but Coin… He really wasn't sure about Coin at all. Something would have to be done and he didn't know who would do it. "Everything's a bloody mess, Effie." he said again. "You were supposed to be my silver lining. Is it a little more believable put out like that?"

His tone was mocking because he was sure she would snap back into one of her episode but she surprised him. She stared at him with less reservation, there was still that vacant spark in her eyes but it wasn't as predominant as it had been. "Yes, slightly, actually." Her free hand raised in the air slowly and hovered over his cheek. He held his breath. She had never initiated any contact before. He had tried to hug her once, just after they had gotten her back, and she had started to scream. "Haymitch?" It was a bit uncertain and he stayed perfectly still, leaving the decision up to her.

"Hello, sweetheart." he smirked, something warm uncoiled in his belly, something that felt like anxiety and despair.

"If you're not real and you disappear on me, it will kill me," she warned him. Tears were still rolling on her cheeks but she seemed unaware of them. "and I won't even care because I _miss you_ so much…"

"I'm not about to disappear." He rolled his eyes. "You're the one who doesn't want to look at me." She lowered her hand, the tip of her fingers brushing against his jaw. His skin was prickling where she wasn't actually touching, it was… Good in a way, but it left him wanting more. "Effie, please…" he breathed out. "Come back to me." _For good, this time_.

"I'm trying to." She frowned before drawing back both of her hands quickly to pull on her hair. He moved to stop her from hurting herself but her eyes met his. "_Don't_." she commanded, leaving no place for arguments. "I don't want to hurt you." There was a scowl of pain on her face. "Those _things_ inside my head… Those images… They're not real, are they?" The pain soon left place to distress. "You never hit me."

He shook his head. "Do you have to ask?"

"You never…" She breathed out slowly. "I feel like I should hate you."

He didn't know exactly what they had put inside her pretty head and he was afraid to find out. Did they make her believed he was the one torturing her? Did they…

"You should." he shrugged. "You were always supposed to hate me, sweetheart, but you never did." He made a face. "If you could try to like me a bit longer, I would appreciate it. I'm short on people who likes me, these days."

"Perhaps you should stop insulting them at every turn." she suggested, sounding tired.

"Perhaps." he smirked. "But where would be the fun in that?"

She smiled back. It was small and it didn't quite reach her eyes but it was also fond and he counted his victories where he could.

She reached out for his face again, slowly. Her fingers touched his cheek this time, her broken nails scraped against the eternal stubble covering his jaw and he swallowed hard because it was a big step. He knew it was. Her breath caught in her throat, he didn't quite know if it was a hiccup or a sob.

"You feel real." she whispered. Her hand slid to the back of his neck and she tugged gently. He leaned in, following her lead, until their forehead touched. "You _smell_ real."

"I actually _showered _before coming here." he grumbled. "It can't be that bad." She was picky about that though.

"It's good." Her thumb traced small circles on his jaw and he relaxed. "You smell like liquor and… _you. _It's good."

She pulled back and clutched at his shirt, snuggling against him until he had no choice but to hug her so tight he wasn't sure she could breathe. She was almost sitting in his lap in her attempts to get as close as she could. Her head was neatly tucked under his chin.

"Don't leave me." she begged.

"I'm not." he vowed.

"If you leave me I'm afraid I'm going to forget." She held him closer. "Don't let me forget."

"Never." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Never, Effie."


	60. Worse Things

Prompt : if your still taking prompts could you maybe write a partner piece to this, a few years post mj where they're lying in bed and he brings up this converstation? that would be soooo great!

_For reference this is a follow-up to chapter 38 _

_**Worse Things**_

Effie adjusted her reading glasses and glanced at one of the numerous papers scattered around her on the bed. She could barely see anything in the pale electric light – one thing she really missed about the Capitol was the better technology, even after the rebellion, Twelve remained a bit behind on that front. She scribbled some notes on her notepad, tore the page off and put it on the pile of papers that she still had to review before actually getting some sleep.

"You know, there's a _table_ in the kitchen, a _desk_ in the study you just had to clean and furnish last month and a _coffee table_ in the living-room. Why do you always have to clutter up the bed?" Haymitch grumbled, stepping out of the bathroom. He picked up the steaming mug he had put down earlier and nudged some papers off his side of the bed.

"Don't do that!" she yelped. "You will disrupt my system." She carefully moved some papers around so he could actually get in the bed – he did have a point, though, she could have worked somewhere else but that was a habit of her that even living with Haymitch Abernathy hadn't managed to kill. "Really, Haymitch, you know…"

"Yeah, I know." he cut her off. "You really need to send those to Plutarch tomorrow, just like you really needed to send the reports last week and I don't remember what the one before that."

Effie winced, feeling a bit guilty. When Plutarch had started talking about expanding his divertissement business to other Districts, to create local outposts, she had jumped on board and requested Twelve. The Capitol post-rebellion wasn't keen on ex-escorts and she had been glad to leave the memories behind. She had done everything by the book of course, she had arranged for a house to rent because she couldn't very well sprung on her victors uninvited – and she had also thought Haymitch wouldn't have appreciated her imposing her presence in his house. So, now, almost five months later, she was renting a house she wasn't living in – and it was getting quite ridiculous because she couldn't remember having put a foot in it for the last two weeks at the very least – and getting everything to work District wise was so much effort she was going crazy.

"I am not being a very good girlfriend, am I?" she asked softly. She picked at a loose thread on the comforter absent-mindedly. She was working too much, everybody was agreeing on that, be it behind her back or to her face, Haymitch had been the only one who hadn't said anything until now. She knew she worked too much, she was aware of that. She had always been a bit of a workaholic, bordering on obsessive when schedules and timings were concerned, but it was worse since her imprisonment. Working gave her a purpose, something else to think about than her fears and insecurities. Working helped her concentrate and stop thinking about things she'd rather not be thinking about.

Haymitch lifted his eyebrow in mocked consideration. "Depends. Am I getting sex if I say yes?" He took a sip of his tea – that he thought she didn't know was spiced up – and winked, letting her know he wasn't actually serious.

"You're not getting sex when you bring alcohol in the bedroom." she retorted, glancing back down at her papers. "Is this tea laced with whiskey or whiskey laced with tea, I wonder?"

"This is my third drink of the day, give me a break, sweetheart." he sighed "I'm trying."

"I know." she softened. "You're doing well."

He mumbled something she didn't quite catch but she didn't press the matter because it was a touchy subject. Haymitch would never stop drinking, she had accepted that. If she needed to work, he needed to drink. To each their weapon to fight their own demons. He was trying to get a hand on his alcoholism, though, to control his consumption. It was far from ideal but it worked for now and the events surrounding the rebellion were still too fresh in Effie's mind for her to try and tackle's someone's scars. She could barely live with her own.

She got back to work and he remained silent for a while, sipping his tea – or his whiskey, whatever was in that mug – and watching her work. He did that a lot, watching her while she was bent on a paper or another, she was used to it. As she pondered on a particular intricate point, she distractedly took off her hair grip that she could feel slipping away slowly. She gathered her hair, intending to tie them up again, when Haymitch stole the grip from her had. His fingers brushed through her strawberry curls and he finally put down the mug on the nightstand.

"Is that what you called yourself around?" he mused slowly. "My girlfriend?"

She frowned, forgetting the reports to look at him over her shoulder. He didn't sound displeased or angry or anything but it still sounded a bit guarded to her ears and, with Haymitch, guarded wasn't good. The fact that it had been almost half an hour since she had uttered the term also tended to show it was a question he had been considering since then. Haymitch never did anything by accident.

"How else am I supposed to refer to us?" She took off her glasses and put them on top of her notepad, before completly turning around to face him. His hand trailed through her hair one last time and fell down on the bed.

"Are you somehow obliged to refer to us at all?" His sarcasms weren't welcome but he didn't quite seem to grasp that fact.

"People tend to wonder why I spend most of my time with you, you know?" she said. "Plus, questions about my status _do_ pop up sometimes in polite conversation. Am I single? Am I seeing someone? Dating someone? Engaged to someone?" And, yes, she could admit most of her coworkers – who were in majority coming from the Capitol – were nosy but those were questions she had asked a thousand times herself. That was just small talk. "I didn't think you would care. If you don't want people to know we're in a relationship, I…"

"I don't care." He sounded cautious to her but his face was blank, whatever was bothering him he didn't want her to know. "And before you start screaming your head off, I don't mind people knowing. We're not… It's not as dangerous as it was, I guess."

_Oh_. So _that_ was what it was about. His eternal insecurities about losing people he cared about.

"If anything, being in a relationship with me could be dangerous for _you_." she told him. "You're a hero to the rebels, I am still the escort who managed to escape trial."

He waved that argument away. "_Girlfriend_, though?" He made a face. "We're not _bloody_ teenagers, Effie."

She couldn't help her amused smile. It was all good for him to say that when he spent most of his time acting like a child. "I will use the word 'partner' next time, would that be acceptable to you?" He grumbled a yes and she kissed his cheek. "Why, you just handled a problem like an adult, Haymitch. I'm impressed."

"I'm letting you walk all over me." He rolled his eyes. "You're a witch."

"I don't think you ever let anybody walk all over you your whole life, stop being dramatic." she chided him. "You're just getting old."

"You're not getting any younger either, princess." he snorted.

She whacked away the hand that had started playing with her hair again. "Well, why don't you go and find yourself a younger model?" she snapped, irritated by that comment. She knew she wasn't as pretty or fit as she used to be despite her best efforts. And that was without taking the ugly scars she was sporting since the rebellion into account.

His smirk was so bloody annoying even after all this time… You would think she'd have gotten used to it but… No. It always equally made want to either murder him or kiss him senseless.

"A younger model wouldn't know all the tricks you do, sweetheart." he teased. "That thing you do with your tongue…"

That was it, that smirk had to go. She took hold of her pillow and tried to smother him with it. They fought for it for a few seconds but he snatched it away in the end and she ended up pinned to the mattress by his body, just like he had always intended to, she figured. Almost all her papers were now scattered around the bed but she couldn't bring herself to care.

"Trying to murder a victor in his bed." He shook his head in disapprobation. "You should know better, sweetheart." He captured her lips as a spoil of war and she was happy to let him have that small victory. She wrapped her legs around his waist which made him moan in her mouth and when she was sure he was sufficiently distracted, she twisted them around so he was under her and she was straddling his hips.

"And _you_ should know better than underestimate _me_, Haymitch." she triumphed. "As old as I am, you're still five years older." The smirk came back full force and his hands trailed on her waist, she leaned in to kiss him. "I really have to finish working, though, sorry." she mumbled against his lips before he could get any ideas.

He let out a sigh. "You know who sleeps in the same bed and never have sex? Old couples." His tone was playful enough that she knew he wasn't really upset.

"Is that a bad thing?" she joked, getting off the bed to gather her wayward papers. It was a mess and it would took forever to sort everything out.

His eyes followed her as she methodically picked up every page before settling back crossed-legged on the bed. "You said there were worse things once." he shrugged.

She frowned. "When did I say that?" She couldn't, for the life of her, remember ever having that kind of conversation with Haymitch. Before the rebellion it had mostly been just sex and a lot of mutual pinning and things left unsaid. After the rebellion… Well, she had spent a whole year in the Capitol trying and mostly failing to get her life back together, they had exchanged a few phone calls, he had visited her twice while taking care of something for Plutarch – or pretending to take care of something for Plutarch, she wasn't sure – and she had come to Twelve once to see how Katniss and Peeta had been doing. During those short trips they had shared a bed, had sex and made out like the teenagers he refused to be compared to, but they had never once tried to define their relationship. They had never once talked about the future. Not even after she came to live in Twelve.

"Victory Tour." he snorted. "I can't say I'm surprised you don't remember, sweetheart, you were all about your schedule that night."

The memory was fuzzy. She could remember Cinna and Portia finding them in a compromising position on the train and Cinna negotiating for hours of free time that had left her rearranging the timetable of the whole Tour… Haymitch had fallen asleep long before she had finished.

"I never thought we would be able to, you know." she confessed, playing with the edge of her notepad but not really paying attention to what she had previously written.

"I know." he confirmed softly.

She met his eyes in surprise. She had thought about that a lot before the rebellion. She had fallen in love with Haymitch against her better judgment. She wouldn't have stayed an escort forever, after all, and she had known he would never move to the Capitol so their affair was doomed to be a heartbreak. For her at least, she hadn't been convinced he loved her that much at the time.

"I don't say that often so enjoy it." he droned, handing her the glasses that were squeezed between his thigh and a stack of papers before they got crushed. "You were right. There are worse things than being domestic or getting old with you."

Haymitch was a difficult man and as closed as one could get in the matters of the heart so, coming from him, this was equal to a love declaration. She could feel a lump starting to form in her throat and tears building behind her eyes but she also knew he would hate that, so she averted her eyes and pretended it wasn't such a big deal to her.

"Careful, Haymitch." she teased, sure he could still hear the emotion in her voice. "You're getting sentimental in your old age."


	61. Beg

Prompt : I am so IN to read a story where Effie is the one in charge and Haymitch cant convince her to do what they both want. yes that was a request PLEASEEEE! *puppy eyes*

_Warning: This isn't quite M but it's as close as I'm ever going to get (never say never, I know but still, be warned there's some things implied)_

_Also I'm going on a trip tomorrow until Friday so there won't be any prompt published this week but you can still leave me a message if you want to submit one =)_

_**Beg**_

"That's cheating, sweetheart." Haymitch didn't even try to hide the effect her dress was having on him. He straightened up slightly on the barstool, his drink forgotten in front of him, as he took in the sight that was Effie Trinket that night. He wasn't the only one, every set of eyes at the victory party were on her, she was absolutely gorgeous.

"How is a simple dress cheating, Haymitch?" she asked innocently enough but he wasn't fooled. The triumphant smile on her dark cherry-red lips gave her away. She twirled slowly, so he could better admire the true master-piece she was wearing. There was nothing simple about that dress, it was designed to seduce and entice the imagination and he was completely gone. The red fabric was hugging her chest tight and even though it wasn't really showing her cleavage, it was hard to look at anything else but her breasts; it stuck to her waist like a second skin and then flew around her legs freely down her knees, her legs looked endless; but the best part was the see-through lace that covered her back. The dress in itself wasn't indecent in any way but, boy, was it a call for indecent ideas… She had even toned down the make-up and adorned one of her less-eccentric wig – dark black synthetic hair trimmed here and there with shiny white diamonds, that fell down to her chin in a short bob. As for her trademark heels… They were the same red as the dress with straps that circled her calves. He was still gaping when Chaff leaned around him to see what the commotion was about.

"You actually don't look ridiculous, love." Chaff said, looking her up and down. "I would even do you if I was drunk enough." Effie didn't roll her eyes because it would have been rude but Haymitch knew it was hard for her to refrain. He kicked Chaff in the shin anyway. "So what's this 'cheating' thing about? You two made a bet?"

Chaff was bored and the cocktails the bartender had been pouring them for the last hour weren't getting the job done. Neither Chaff nor Haymitch were even close to being drunk.

"Not your business." Haymitch replied. "Beside, the bet's over."

Effie's smile grew predatory. "I don't think so, Haymitch. The terms of the bet were clear."

He cursed his drunken self for the bet and the situation that had prompted it in the first place. It had been going on for three days now. Those Games had been as tense as they always were but for some reason, he and Effie had been at each other's throats even more than usual. Harsh words and cruel insults had been thrown back and forth since the Reaping, Haymitch had drank more and she had been nastier in her comments. How and why they had found themselves half-naked on the couch after a particularly bad quarrel, he didn't know but he _did_ know that they had started arguing again about who had started what between them when they just should have shut up and have sex right there, right then. But Haymitch's drunk self had insisted that it was her who had jumped on him because he wouldn't even dream of sleeping with her otherwise and she had claimed the exact opposite and thus the bet was born if you could call bet the absolute torture that it was. He had bet she would come begging him to sleep with her and she had retorted that _he _would be the one who would break first.

There were a few things drunk Haymitch hadn't taken into account, too focused on _winning_ their little bantering spar, and that was that Effie had a wicked, _wicked_ mind when she wanted to. Three days of her parading around the penthouse clad in towels – _I was taking a shower when I heard a noise, Haymitch_, _I thought you might have fallen _was a bloody cheap excuse – satin nightgowns or dresses that looked more like belts than skirts, not to mention the innocent way she would press against him to grab something or the way she insisted on licking the chocolate from her spoon with a moan while staring right into his eyes, and Haymitch was slowly but steadily becoming hot, bothered and crazy.

Oh, he had tried to fight back. Gripping her waist to steady her when she didn't need steadying, brushing his lips against her ear under the pretext of telling her something that should remain privy to Twelve's representatives only, openly picturing her naked until she blushed… But truth was, Effie was better at that game and that cherry-red dress was the icing on the cake.

"Sweetheart, you won." he growled, getting off the stool to whisper in her ear. "Tour the room once, say you're feeling under the weather, I will wait for you by the elevators."

She lifted a perfectly shaped eyebrow, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "I don't think so. You forgot the magic word."

She sauntered away to a small group composed of sponsors and escorts, leaving him gaping at her retreating – particularly tempting – back.

"Someone's got it bad…" Chaff sing-songed, not bothering to hide his amusement. "So this bet of yours…"

He marched towards Effie and her silly friends and snatched her away easily enough.

"That was rude, Haymitch." she chided him. "Viola was in the middle of a story."

"You hate that bitch." he reminded her because the feud between Eleven and Twelve's escorts was a subject of gossip every year. Flickerman always did an interview with each of them that only add fuel to the fire.

"Even so." She smoothed his creaked jacket with obvious displeasure at his disheveled appearance. Her hand lingered longer than it ought to though.

"Let's get out of here." Haymitch growled. "You won. I lost. I want to tear that dress off you." It wasn't such a blow to his pride to admit it. Three days of incredible frustrating fantasies had made him think that his pride wasn't worth the price.

"You won't do a thing to that poor dress." she denied. "It costs more than your house and I happen to like it."

"I like it too." His hands were itching to touch her, he wanted to kiss every inches of her creamy skin and… "I will like it better off you."

"But Haymitch, you still didn't say please…" She batted her lashes with fake innocence. "You know how I care about manners…"

He rolled his eyes. "Are you _fucking_ serious?"

She tilted her head and waited.

She _was_ serious.

"You won. I'm hornier than you." he sighed "What more do you want from me?"

"Why, Haymitch." she smiled. "I want you to beg, of course."

Because if their role had been reversed, he would have made her beg and plead forever before he finally yielded to his lust for her. Effie could hold a grudge like no one else and wasn't that just perfect.

"No." he spat.

She shrugged with polished sophistication. "As you wish." She turned on her heels and went back to the small group he had dragged her off from. He slowly made his way back to the bar and Chaff who had obviously been watching with interest.

"Want to tell me what this is all about?" Chaff asked, pushing a glass full to the rim of that pink stuff in front of him. Haymitch was longing for whiskey.

"I hate Trinket." he mumbled, before downing the glass in one go. Those cocktails were disgusting.

"No you don't – which I don't get." Chaff snorted. "But there's nothing new there, so… What about that _bet_."

He considered telling his friend everything for a few seconds and then thought better of it. The less people knew he liked Effie, the safer it was. He didn't want Snow or anyone else to think they could use her against him. Haymitch was untouchable because he had nothing to lose after all. "Bet I could go a day without a drink."

Chaff obviously saw the lie for what it was but he didn't comment on it. Eleven's mentor turned his stool so he could watch the party in full swing. They drank in silence for a while.

"Your girl is doing a number of the dance floor." Chaff said, after some time.

"Not my girl." he mumbled in his ridiculous pink liquor. But his eyes betrayed him and searched her in the big wall mirror behind the bartender. She wasn't hard to find, a red dress wrapped around some guy dressed in blinding yellow with whom she was languidly swaying left and right.

"I think you're meant to watch and die of jealousy." Chaff mused, he seemed to find the whole business funny. "She doesn't usually let guys paw at her that way."

"Don't care." he lied. Oh, but he did. He didn't miss anything in the mirror, neither the way the guy's hands were roaming all over her nor her obvious flirting.

"She's kind of sexy in that dress." His friend observed. "Almost makes you forget she's Capitol. She looks like a real woman."

She always looked like a real woman to him despite the make-up and the ridiculous clothes. She was too fiery, too bent on meeting him taunt for taunt, too stuck-up for him to forget. He wasn't attracted to her because she could be gorgeous under all her stupid attires, he was attracted to her despite all that. And wasn't _that_ a scary thought…

Their eyes met in the mirror, dark blue and smoky grey, as different as they could get. Her smile was challenging but it disappeared when she saw he wasn't seething with jealousy. He wasn't jealous, he wasn't jealous because he knew he could go over there and kill that man before he could even make a move and, of course, that would probably sentence him to death but the fact remained that he_ could_. And that was the worst case scenario. Because as much as she wanted him to yield, he also knew that if he went over there and told her to choose between yellow guy and him, she would choose him. There was nothing to be jealous about.

He watched as she whispered something to the guy and made her way to the bar. The bartender was busy serving a group of giggling women but Chaff's last drink was still untouched.

"May I?" she asked.

"Be my guest." Chaff handed her his glass.

She sipped the vile pink stuff slowly and Haymitch pretended not to see the way Chaff was ogling her. She _did_ look more human that night. It was the wig, he decided. She was almost underdressed by Capitol standards.

"My friend invited me to a private party." she said, out of the blue, staring right at him. "A more _intimate_ setting, he called it. Should I go, I wonder?"

Haymitch should have told her to go to hell and stay there for all he cared, but he couldn't. He couldn't because, jealous or not, the idea of that man touching her…

"Please." he sighed.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Effie asked politely, putting down her drink.

Chaff was looking from her to Haymitch with a growing hilarity.

"_Please_, sweetheart." he said again, meeting her eyes.

"Perhaps I shouldn't go, after all." she told Chaff. "I'm feeling a bit unwell suddenly."

Haymitch didn't need much more to get off the stool and out the room. He barely caught Chaff's laugher and his "You bet you could make him beg, didn't you, love?" and elected to pretend he had never heard it because, well, he wasn't sure his ego could take a blow like that.

He waited by the elevators. It took a few minutes for her to join him, grinning like a fool. He had to physically restrain himself from kissing it away because it was bloody irritating but stopping himself from kissing her wasn't hard. Stopping himself from _jumping_ on her on the other hand… When the doors finally slid open he was ready to swear he was going insane, he blindly pushed the twelfth floor button and stared at her, breathing hard. She was enjoying his frustration too much.

When the doors closed, he pinned her to the wall. His mouth crashed on hers and his hands clenched at her waist, groping her curves and trying to locate the zipper that must have been hidden somewhere, because she had said she didn't want him to tear the dress off and he didn't want another fight. His lips trailed down her jaw to her throat. Her breathing was quick now but still she put her hands on his chest and pushed him back.

"Your 'please' didn't sound very sincere, Haymitch." she pouted.

"No?" He tried to kiss her again but her hands kept him firmly at a distance. "You're being a tease, Effie." he whined.

"You said I would come to you begging." she retorted.

He cursed his drunken self to hell and back before licking his lips. "And I was wrong. Should I get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness?" he smirked, dropping to the ground and kissing the soft skin of her leg. His hands ran up and down her thighs and he pulled up the rim of her dress slowly, intending to make _her_ beg for a change.

"Stop." she said, gripping his shoulder and trying to pull him up. He looked up, frowning but the elevator took the decision for him when it chimed to signal they had arrived. They had barely set one foot in the penthouse before she was pushing him against a wall and kissing him aggressively.

"You're sending mixed signals here, sweetheart." he grunted, when she bit his neck. He finally managed to locate the zipper of her dress but she whacked his hand away before opening his shirt with such brutality that most of the buttons were ripped and bounced on the floor. Her hands stroke his chest and came to rest on the slight bulge of fat around his waist. She paused and he wondered if her aim was to arouse him until he died of frustration.

"How much do you want me ?" she asked, looking him straight in his eyes and _god…_

"You would already know if you just let me show you…" he retorted, putting his hand on her ribs. She grabbed his wrists. "Effie…" he moaned in sheer irritation. "It's not funny anymore." He wanted to touch her. He wanted her naked. He didn't care if she wanted to call the shot and be the one in control but _he_ _wanted her now_.

"Beg." she ordered.

"_Please_." he yielded and, at that point, it _was_ a plea. "Please." he said again, leaning in to kiss her throat softly. "I want you." She let go of his wrists to pull him in a kiss that left him breathless. "Please." he whispered against her lips. "I _need_ you."

"I win." she relaxed against him and he got the feeling this game had been as hard for her as it had been for him.

"You win." he confirmed, kissing her again. She didn't stop him when he blindly unzipped her dress. Just this once, he was happy to lose.


	62. Goodnight!

Prompt : Please if you still raking request: i wanna read like sort of a second part on this, kind of Peeta sees Haymitch getting into Effie's room and Tells Katniss and she goes knocking on her door and yelling "Effie i'm sleeping with Peeta, just for you to know " and then she adds "Oh and Good Night Haymitch" and they burst laughing going to her room leaving a very surprised Haymitch and Effie that were in the middle of something.

_**Goodnight!**_

Katniss was quickly dozing off but trying hard to stay awake. She didn't want to sleep without Peeta to calm her nightmares, it had become a habit for him to wake her up before she could scream or to hug her back to sleep. She cursed Effie to hell and back for the embarrassing lecture about propriety, responsible intimate relationship and the outright interdiction for the two victors to share a bed before they were legally wedded.

The soft knocks on her door came as a surprise because she didn't think Peeta would brave Effie's warnings. She climbed off the bed and quickly unlocked the door before anyone could catch them. She ushered Peeta in as soon as she saw him.

"I didn't think you would come." she whispered, with a smile.

He seemed pleasantly surprised by her welcome. "I wasn't." he confessed. "But then… You will _never_ believed what I just saw."

She frowned. It couldn't be serious because Peeta was fighting off a smile of his own – nothing to do with the uprising in the Districts or this Victory Tour from hell then. "Tell me."

His eyes were twinkling with amusement. "Well, for someone so stuck up about propriety, Effie allows men into her room at night." He winced. "Not true, sorry. _One_ man. But bare-chested, bare-feet and obviously ready for bed…"

There weren't many men aboard the train… "_Please_…" she whined. "Tell me it's not Cinna." Because the idea was absolutely horrifying. Down to Earth Cinna with the bubbly and boisterous Effie Trinket… She couldn't conceive it.

Peeta shook his head. "Haymitch."

Katniss blinked twice, trying to make sense of what he was saying. She couldn't have heard right because… "No way. They hate each other."

He shrugged. "Clearly, that doesn't stop them from sleeping together. He was sneaking around the train, I followed him."

"You're kidding me." she hissed, forgetting to be surprised. Haymitch hadn't been too vocal in their defense during Effie's speech. He had been silent and busy drowning in his glass of whiskey.

"I wish I was." he sighed. "Have you ever heard Effie giggle like a schoolgirl? It's _disturbing_."

Katniss was far from such concerns however. How unfair was it to forbid someone to do something because of some stupid rule and then to do precisely the same thing?

"Wait here." she instructed Peeta who, of course, didn't follow her order and came straight after her when she exited her room.

"What are you doing?" he asked, a bit worried.

She didn't answer but she made a beeline for Effie's room. She could hear moans and whimpers inside – which was as disturbing as Peeta had said – and she hammered loudly on the door with her fist, intending to be heard.

"Effie, I'm sleeping with Peeta tonight, just so you know." she shouted through the wood. "Oh, and goodnight, _Haymitch_."

Peeta pressed a hand against his mouth in obvious amusement and Katniss' lips twitched. They had very few silly moments those days, they could as well enjoy them. There were hushed whispers inside Effie's room and then Haymitch's laughter boomed out while Effie's high-pitched voice told him off harshly.

"Goodnight, kids!" Haymitch yelled from inside.

When they left, Effie was still audibly ranting but Katniss and Peeta, for the first time since the beginning of the Tour, were laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes.


	63. Easier

Prompt: Effie gets pregnant and has to tell Haymitch, but finds out that he was having an affair and caught them together? And Effie decides to leave but tells Haymitch that she's carrying their child? And yeah, you can continue with the rest :) Thank you!

_The last part was on Akachankami's express orders so... _

_**Easier**_

Haymitch's hands clenched on the woman waist, pulling clumsily at her clothes to try to get rid of them. He was drunk, so drunk he couldn't remember if her name was Alkena or Alkera or Alkesomething… He also purposely didn't think of the age gap between them. She was a victor from Eight, five years past perhaps, she couldn't be more than twenty-three and he was… too drunk to care.

She was straddling his lap and skillfully getting him more aroused by the second. They were on the couch of the penthouse living-room and he was dimly aware that they should relocate to his bedroom before someone walked on them. He was about to suggest just that when she kissed his sentence away and he stopped thinking because she was a very good kisser.

In retrospect, he shouldn't have been as surprised as he was by the thud of a purse hitting the ground or the audible – and frankly _ridiculous_ – gasp.

"Haymitch!" Effie shrieked.

Alkesomething froze and stared at the escort before rolling her eyes and resuming kissing him, obviously thinking she would go away. How stupid of her… Haymitch pushed her away because he sensed drama coming and while he wasn't a big fan of that kind of domestic squabble, catfight were always entertaining.

Effie's mouth was pinched in a hard line and he carefully didn't notice the tears in her eyes. Something unpleasant rolled in his stomach and he wasn't so amused anymore. He pushed Eight's victor off his lap. The woman stood there between him and Effie and eyed them both one after the other with a spark of understanding and disgust.

"Seriously?" she spat. She didn't wait for an answer, she grabbed the jacket she had shed earlier and left with a last heinous glare for Effie. It wasn't the fact that there were other women the problem, Haymitch guessed, it was the fact that one of those other women was a Capitol one.

The silence, once they were left alone, was deafening. Haymitch crushed the guilt that was starting to stir in his stomach before it could fully grow. There was nothing to feel guilty about. He had been sleeping with Effie for a few years now and then, that didn't make them an item.

"Don't start." he warned her when the silence became too much to bear. "I don't owe you anything." How could he feel so sober when he had been drunk just a minute ago? He stood and dragged his exhausted body to the liquor cart, not bothering to fix his untucked shirt or his unbuckled belt. He kept his back to her and tried hard not to be bothered by her lasting silence. Effie was _never_ out of words. She _always_ gave as bad as she got, that's what he loved about her. "Come on, sweetheart, spill it out or go away. Don't you have to paint your nails or something?"

He was expecting a lecture about how it wasn't proper to entertain that kind of guest in the living-room – although it didn't actually bother her when she was the one he was 'entertaining' – or perhaps a fit of jealousy because he had never gone to another woman during the Games before, she was there and she was willing so why bother? He probably wouldn't even have brought Alkewhatever back to the penthouse if he had been able to find his escort when the other victor had started flirting with him. He wasn't expecting what came out of her mouth. It wasn't even a whisper, barely a murmur.

"I'm pregnant."

The glass full of whiskey almost slipped through his fingers and he briefly closed his eyes before turning around to face her. "Congratulation." He lifted his glass in a toast. "Who's the father?"

He bet it was some sponsors… Some ridiculous man who had dyed his skin blue or green and who was really sweet and proper when they made love. He didn't like to think of anybody else putting their hands on her for some reasons but he was so _sure_ her other lovers were tender and loving… The complete opposite of what they shared. They didn't make love, they had sex. They were rough and avid and it was always _so_ _good_…

The tears filling her blue eyes rolled on her cheeks then. She looked hurt. Much more hurt than he had ever seen her.

"Do you have to ask?" she snapped. Her breathing was quick and rasping. He wondered if it was hormones already.

"Isn't that what you're supposed to do in this kind of situations?" he snorted before taking a sip of whiskey.

"I don't cheat, Haymitch." she hissed, a hand coming to rest protectively on her stomach. "Unlike you apparently."

Cheat? An idea popped into his head but it was so stupid he nearly burst out laughing right then. He blamed the alcohol because, really, how plausible was it that Effie had thought they were in a relationship?

"I don't cheat, sweetheart." he denied with a smirk. "I don't have anybody to cheat on."

She took a step back – which he found a bit out of proportions because you could have thought he had hit her.

"What am I, then?" she challenged.

He rolled his eyes. "You're convenient." He downed his glass. He didn't like the turn that conversation was taking. "Come on, Trinket, nothing to be jealous about. She didn't hold a candle to you and you're about to go play house with some rich guy." That probably meant he would get a new escort and wouldn't ever see her again. He didn't let the thought sadden him. Sadness was an old friend. "Everything's fine."

He was taken aback by her laugh because it was bitter and raw and everything Effie never was.

"How stupid are you?" she asked before running a hand on her face, smudging her make-up. "How stupid am I?" She shook her head and Haymitch's heart started to race in his chest. He had a bad feeling all of a sudden. "We're done." she stated flatly. "Whatever happens next, we're done. You don't deserve me."

"I don't deserve someone as annoying as you, I agree." he retorted but it lacked his usual snark. "Who's the father, Effie?"

Something hard flashed in her eyes and she lifted her chin. "There isn't one." Her hand found her stomach again and it was harder for him to look away this time. "We don't need him. We don't need _you_." She picked up her purse and turned on her heels without leaving him time to recover from that blow.

He ran after her without even thinking about it, grabbing her wrist before she could call the elevator. "This isn't my child." he said, leaving no room for argument.

She scowled at him. He wasn't sure he had ever seen her so _furious_. She tugged herself free from his grasp and slammed her fist hard on his chest. "Not anymore. Not if I have _anything_ to say about it."

He gripped her arm again. "_This isn't my child."_ He honestly didn't mean to shout but the thought… He didn't want a child. He had never wanted a child. Any child of his would end up in an arena and would die on a screen for everyone to see. He didn't want a child. He didn't want anyone to depend on him. He didn't want to care about someone only to lose them. He didn't want… "This isn't my child, Effie."

To her credit, she didn't flinch. She stepped in his space with a sneer on her face. "This baby is very much _yours_ but you just lost all rights to him. Go find your whore, maybe she can give you another one."

Usually that was the point where he would kiss her. Now, however, he was too stunned to even think about that.

"You're a liar." he replied. He sounded calm to his own ears even though he was far from being so. "It can't be mine."

"I am no liar." She smiled a sad and bitter smile. "You, on the other hand, are both a liar and a _coward_."

He wanted to shout back that if there ever was a coward it was _her._ She was the one who had become perfectly aware of how absurd and horrible the Hunger Games were and was still too scared to say anything aloud. She was the one who belonged to the people harvesting children to kill them because of something their ancestors did almost a century ago. She was the one who buried her face in his shoulder each time one of their tributes got killed. _She_ was the coward.

But he was a coward too and that's why he let her step in the elevator, knowing he would probably never see her – or his child – again. He was a coward because he'd rather forget this baby even existed instead of fearing for his life. It was easier.

* * *

_5 years later_

Haymitch quickened his steps, urging the soldier on his left to walk faster. As far as prison went, that one wasn't bad. He had certainly seen worse during the rebellion, the one where Peeta and the other victors had been kept for instance. That one was clean and almost welcoming, everything to make you forget you were in a prison in short. Being a political prisonner had its perks.

They stopped in front of the cell number sixty-three - or the room rather, because he had seen what those cells looked like and he didn't particularly think double bed, windows and TV screens were very prison-like. He waved the guard away as soon as the door was unlocked and braced himself before stepping inside.

The little girl quietly drawing in a corner of the room raised alarmed eyes but when she saw her mother smile, she went back to her stack of papers. Haymitch couldn't look away. The child was small with wavy blond hair neatly divided into two ponytails and grey eyes so like his own… She was beautiful.

"You came." Effie said softly. "I wasn't sure you would."

Tearing his gaze away from the girl was harder than he had thought it would. He had never believed in love at first sight but right then, for the first time, he did. He was head over heels for that little girl and he didn't even know her yet. He just knew she was _his_.

"You said they wanted to execute you." he reminded her. "Of course I was going to come, sweetheart."

He hadn't seen Effie in forever but she looked good too. As good as anyone looked those days, revolution wasn't kind on anyone.

"I didn't call you for me." she was quick to deny, avoiding his eyes. "I need you to…" She sighed and folded her arms on her chest awkwardly. "I know we didn't part on the best of terms, Haymitch, but my parents are dead, I don't have any family left. If they're going to…" She stopped at that probably because she didn't want the child to hear that her mother might get killed sooner rather than later. Coin was dead set on killing anyone who ever had anything to do with the Games, even former escorts. "I need you to take Sylia. They won't touch her if she's with you."

How ironic was that? Or perhaps it was simply really sad…

"Sylia?" he repeated, testing the name, letting it roll on his tongue. It wasn't a name he would have chosen but it was a good name nonetheless. Short and strong. Like her mother.

The child lifted her head and stared at him with curiosity. He could feel the tremors in his hands starting anew even though he had been sober since Thirteen. He hadn't let himself touch a bottle of alcohol since the rebellion. He hadn't though of finding Effie back _per se_ but… the idea had crossed his mind now and then. Enough for him to give up his poison of choice.

"Please, Haymitch." Effie begged in a whisper that didn't carry to the child. She stepped closer and placed a hand on his arm. "You're her father and, right now, you're all she has. I need you to protect her. Take her out of here, prisons aren't meant for children. She's innocent."

He forced the shock of the reunion away and swallowed back the temptation of asking if all the other children hadn't been innocent too. "I'm taking you both out of here." he replied. "The Mockingjay owed me a favor, you're both safe and free to go."

Effie was an open book to him, always had been, and despite the five years gap since their last meeting he could still read her easily enough. Relief and hope flashed on her face, quickly followed by suspicion. "Why?" she asked.

"Because the Games are over, Princess." he shrugged. "And nobody will hurt my child to get to me. Because… I don't want to be a coward anymore."

Because he had never managed to forget Effie and his child and it hadn't been easier in the end. It had been worse. Not knowing where they were, not knowing if they were alright… It was worse.

Effie's eyes shone with regret and understanding. "I'm sorry. I should have… I didn't…"

"Yeah, well…" he waved her apologies away. "I'm sorry too for what it's worth. You were never just a fling, Effie." He brushed her cheek with the tip of his fingers, not daring to touch more in fear of being rejected. She had every right to reject him. "I missed you." The escort they had sent to replace her was the absolute worst and he had loathed her every step of the way and he had missed their working relationship but, more than that, he had missed _her_. He had missed her quirks and silliness and the way she would look at him with that same amount of annoyance and affection. But that was more than he would know how to say out loud. "Let's get out of here." There would be time to talk later. "Your flat has been requisitioned but I'm staying at a friend's and he had a guest room, if you want it that is."

Effie glanced at her daughter - _their_ daughter - seemingly lost in thought. After a few seconds, she nodded. "Yes, that's very kind of you." Her face softened. "Do you want to meet her?"

Air went out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, he couldn't even hear anything but the beating of his heart. _That _was what panic felt like.

"Yes." The word was rushed as if he was afraid she would change her mind and take the child away from him forever. Maybe she should. "I mean… If that's alright with you." How more awkward could it get? That girl was his child, he shouldn't have to ask permission to talk to her… But it was his fault. He had told Effie he didn't want anything to do with her…

"Of course it's alright with me." Effie smiled. "Sylia, come here."

The child clearly had been busier listening to their discussion than drawing because she bolted from her seat at the first syllable of her name. She came to lean against her mother's legs and studied him warily but not without interest.

"Who're you?" she asked, gaining a small poke from her mother for her trouble.

"Manners, Sylia." Effie chided her. "I swear if I don't tell you that fifty times a day…"

Haymitch tuned out the rest of the lecture, just like the girl it seemed. He crouched in from of the child, noticing the small scar on her chin, the light freckles and, when she finally smiled at him, the missing tooth she was so proudly showing for anyone to see. How long did it last? A few seconds? A few minutes? Effie had fallen silent somewhere along the line.

"Hi, sweetheart." he said at last. There was a lump in his throat but he really didn't know why because she was perfect. She was absolutely _perfect_.

Twinkling grey eyes stared at him before Sylia craned her neck to look at her mother. "Who's he, Mommy?"

Effie bit her lower lip thoughtfully and Haymitch was about to save her from the dilemma and say he was a friend when she crouched too so everyone was at the same level.

"Do you remember when I explained to you that everyone had a mommy and a daddy but that sometimes you only live with one of them?" she asked and Haymitch watched with dread and a strange sort of thrill as the girl nodded with enthusiasm. "Well… Haymitch is… Haymitch is your daddy, Sylia."

That was a sentence he had never thought he would ever hear…

The little girl glanced from Effie to him a few times, apparently waiting for one of them to explain further but when none of them did she frowned and looked at him again.

"Daddy?" she asked uncertainly, as if she was trying the word for the first time.

He waited for the wave of icy panic that would send him running as far away as he could to a bottle of alcohol but it never came. Instead he felt peace and something akin to awe.

In the end, it was easier to smile and open his arms than he had thought it would. Easier and natural.

"Yes." He met Effie's eyes when the child went to hug him. She smiled at him and he thought that, maybe, the future wouldn't be as dire as he had feared. "Yes."

How easy it was to say yes…


	64. Of Wooing

prompt : I love how you put Cinna and Portia relationship! It seems that they have a great connection/ they are a couple... Could you do one with them, please? Haymitch making fun of Cinna because he is wooing her and Portia says something like "Well, at least he is open about it, not like you". Thanks :)

_**Of wooing **_

Haymitch refilled Effie's glass with wine and handed it to her as he passed on his way back to his chair, his newly poured glass of whiskey in his other hand. She thanked him quietly and relaxed further into the couch cushions, obviously exhausted. Her shoes had been discarded a while back and she was fighting to keep her eyes open.

"We're stuck here for another hour it seems." Portia said, as soon as she arrived in the living-room cart. She didn't waste any time in collapsing on the other end of the couch and taking off her heels too. Effie passed her glass without being prompted and Portia took a careful sip before handing it back.

Haymitch would have offered to pour her one but he was too tired and too lazy to go back to the liquor cart. The Victory Tour was proving to be every bit as exhausting as he had feared and that was without taking random breakdown into account. As a matter of fact, the train had broken down in the middle of nowhere on their way to Six and that was a minor catastrophe in itself because everything needed to go as smoothly as possible. For the first time in forever, Effie wasn't the only obsessing about schedule. They didn't need to give Snow anymore ammunitions.

"I need to go and adjust the timetable." Effie sighed but she didn't move. "It's a small mercy the children are still asleep."

And Haymitch didn't know how they could have slept through _that_. The brakes had screeched so loudly it had made him jump, half-sure they were going to crash. Although if he had been sleeping – or rather passed out – he might not have picked up on it.

"Where's Cinna?" he asked, rubbing his face to chase the sleepiness away. Last he had seen him, he was going to find out what had happened with Portia.

"I pushed him off the train." Portia joked. "He was being annoying."

Effie smiled indulgently while Haymitch rolled his eyes. "That man is so wrapped around your little finger, I would be afraid it's going to fall off from blood deprivation if I were you." he scoffed. "It's ridiculous."

"Cinna is a gentleman." Effie retorted. "What would you know of such things, I wonder?"

"Oh, I think Haymitch knows much more than he lets on…" Portia laughed.

The doors slid open just then and Cinna walked in, a small bunch of wild flowers in his hand. Oblivious to what was being discussed, he handed them to Portia with a smile.

"Wild and beautiful, they made me think of you." he stated, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Haymitch fought hard not to roll his eyes again, he downed a third of his whiskey instead. Effie's wistful sigh wasn't lost on him.

"Something is blocking the way." Cinna explained, more seriously. "They need time to clear the rails."

Haymitch waved away his explanations with his glass and studied the stylist with attention. "How long have you and Portia been together?"

Cinna's eyebrows shot up and he exchanged a look with Portia who only shook her head in answer.

"Haymitch, really!" Effie huffed. "How ruder can you get?"

His smirk was spontaneous. "Plenty, sweetheart."

"Five years." Cinna answered, brows furrowed, as he sat on the other couch. "Why so curious all of a sudden?"

"Five years and you still feel compelled to… What, woo her?" Haymitch snorted, before turning to Portia. "He doesn't get any unless he brings you gifts, does he?"

"Haymitch!" Effie shrieked, leaning over the couch armrest to whack his arm. "_Enough_."

"I happen to like wooing her." Cinna replied with a shrug, obviously not taking offense.

"You Capitol men are strange, _strange_ people." He took a sip of whiskey.

"Well, at least, Cinna is open about wooing me, not like you." Portia shot back with a vicious grin that promised pain and revenge for making fun of her precious boyfriend.

"What do you mean?" Effie asked with an icy voice. "Haymitch doesn't woo you. He doesn't even _flirt_ with you."

He didn't flirt with many women those days, Haymitch thought with a pang of sadness. The lectures weren't worth the pleasure.

"I don't think Portia was talking about herself." Cinna commented, a twinkle of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Tell me, Effie, when was the last time Haymitch did something nice for you?"

Effie's blue eyes traveled from Portia to Haymitch one more time, just to be sure it seemed, before finally settling on Cinna. "I fail to see how it is relevant to the current topic."

"It isn't." Haymitch said. "I don't woo. Period."

"I can attest to that." Effie was amused he could tell. "I once saw him try to impress a woman by swallowing a whole bottle of wine in one go."

Haymitch grunted. Of all the stories to tell… "It was a dare, sweetheart."

"Yes, because everybody knows you are physically bound to take up every dare anyone throws at you." she retorted, not even fighting her teasing smile. "All the more so when they are as stupid as that one was."

"It was Chaff's idea." he insisted.

"Which should have told you everything you needed to know in the first place." She looked much too smug for her own good and he desperately wanted to wipe that grin off her face. Not in front of witnesses though… To be fair, Effie hadn't been very impressed by his attempts to down a whole bottle without taking a breath but Chaff and Finnick had a blast at the time.

"How do that story ends?" Portia piped in, interrupting the long staring that promised quality time later on.

"I throw up all over her priceless dress and she was so mad she tried to kill me with her purse." Haymitch sighed dramatically. He didn't add that her purse was damn heavy and that it had left more than one bruise the next morning. He also didn't tell them that she had still helped him to his bed because Effie wouldn't leave him in distress if she could help it. She looked out for him and he looked out for her. "See? I don't do wooing."

"Maybe you should." Cinna sighed, propping himself on the armrests to get up. "Every woman deserve to be courted and if you don't you risk losing them to someone who would treat them properly." He hold out his hand to Portia to help her up. "And on that note, I think it's time to go to bed. Goodnight."

Haymitch watched the doors slid shut on them and then relocated to the couch, next to Effie, with a tired sigh. She put her feet in his lap and sank down on the couch, proper behavior and appearances all but forgotten.

"I still say she refuses to have sex until he gives her something." he insisted. "She's a vixen that one."

Effie's eyes were closed, her head pillowed on the armrest, but she chuckled. "You like her."

"I like you better." he pointed out, drawing silly patterns on her bare ankle absent-mindedly. He was too exhausted to have something else in mind but comfort and a quiet moment though. Perhaps they were getting old because he could remember a time, a few years back, when such a thing would never have happened : all they ever did was fight and they couldn't keep their hands off one another. And then had come Katniss and Peeta and everything had changed. Everything seemed more frail now, like his whole life could shatter with a flick of a finger. He hadn't been aware there was something to lose until Katniss had pulled her stunt with the berries and he had found himself afraid not only for his life but for _Effie's_. He liked Effie. He loved her maybe even, he had never studied that thought too closely, it was too dangerous. They had become more affectionate in the past year, it was less about sex and more about them and it frightened Haymitch sometimes.

"Careful." she teased. "It might sound like you're wooing me."

He coiled his strong hand around her ankle, revering in the smooth skin under his calloused palm. "Should I?" Their eyes met and the instant shifted from playful to serious. Was she going to fall for someone else if he wasn't more attentive? Was he going to lose to someone who knew how to say sweet nothings and would bring her flowers or cover her with jewels?

"Don't be silly, if I wanted wooing, I would make you woo me." she joked softly, tapping his leg lightly with her foot.

The tension that had crept up on them disappeared as quickly as it had come and he smirked. "You think you can make me do everything you want, don't you, sweetheart?"

"I don't think, Haymitch." She took her feet off his lap and sat down to nuzzle her nose against his neck. "I _know_."

He let out a low laugh. "In your dreams, Princess."

She sneaked a arm around his waist and settled more comfortably against him before pressing a kiss just below his jaw. "Do you sound convincing to your own ears?" She rested her head on his shoulder and he kissed her forehead softly. "If I wasn't so tired I would make you beg just to prove you I could."

"Sleep before you faint of exhaustion." he commanded, unable to suppress his smirk. She _could_ make him beg, she already had in the past. She could probably make him woo her too if she put her mind to it and that didn't bother him as much as it should. He liked the feeling of her body against him and there wasn't much he wouldn't do to keep it that way.


	65. Better Days

If you're still taking Haymitch/Effie prompts, maybe you can do this idea justice. What if during the rebellion it's revealed that the citizens of the Capitol have been secretly drugged into submission since the rebellion? Could be drugs in the water. And when Haymitch rescues Effie not only does he have to deal with her PTSD, but also her withdrawal symptoms from those drugs, as well. This leaves Effie in a Peeta-like state. What is real? What isn't real? How does he save her mind?

_I already did something that looked like that on chapter 59 so I tried something a bit different. I hope you like it! _

_**Better Days **_

Haymitch found her in the pen, huddled against the wooden fence, geese honking angrily around her. The animals weren't attacking her, they were just protesting at the intrusion, although he wasn't sure Effie would have noticed if they had been. He crouched next to her, taking in her shaking frame and shivers. He couldn't see her face, it was pressed against her knees.

"What am I going to do with you?" he sighed, dead tired of her episodes. It wasn't her fault, he knew that. She couldn't control it just like Peeta couldn't control his relapses or Katniss her all-consuming grief. He knew all that and that didn't make it easier even with Greasy Sae's help. "Effie."

She didn't acknowledge him but he hadn't expected her to. After the rebellion, when she had shown up in Twelve on the same hovercraft as Peeta, Haymitch had been surprised and not entirely pleased. All the more so when she had quietly explained that she needed a place to stay for a while because she was in withdrawal like thousands of other Capitol citizens and wanted to escape the madness the city had become. Haymitch couldn't say he was surprised by the idea of Snow's government putting drugs in the water pumps to keep the population calm and submissive, he was, however, finding really suspicious that it hadn't been discovered sooner since the new regime had been in place for a few weeks. Plutarch had been so dismissive when he had finally gotten a hold on him on the phone…

"Come on, sweetheart, let's get you back to the house." he suggested, wondering if she had taken anything. Capitol citizens had been drugged for months and cutting them off their addiction wasn't proving to be an easy path. Some days were okay but most were very bad. Effie had been in Twelve for weeks now and Haymitch could see no light at the end of the tunnel. He was lacking new ideas to help her. He had even tried to stop drinking with her but that had been his worst idea yet because he had succeeded and she hadn't which had infuriated her. It wasn't her fault, really, her body was craving the drugs and it was slowly driving her crazy. Sometimes she was shivering so badly and nothing could stop the tremors, other times she would curl in the bathroom and swear she would never eat nor drink anything again and there were the days when her mind was playing tricks on her and she would hallucinate her worst fears. That was when she wasn't having nightmares about her time in prison or having bloody panic attacks in the middle of his living-room because he had slammed the door instead of shutting it slowly like a normal person.

"I'm sorry." she mumbled weakly against her knees.

He fought to stay calm. He had lashed out at her more than once in the past few weeks. He wasn't nurse material and he hated seeing her like that just like he hated seeing Peeta or Katniss almost destroyed to their core. He felt helpless and that wasn't a feeling he was keen on.

"Did you take anything?" He had to ask, that had also happened several times before. One time, she had swallowed every damn pills she could find in his medicine cabinet, another one she had drunk herself to a stupor and would probably have emptied his cellar if he had not stopped her.

She shook her head meekly.

"You better not be lying to me." he snapped.

She lifted her head slowly to glare at him. He would never get used to her hollow cheeks and that vacant look in her eyes. The pixie cut wasn't setting right with him either. They had shaved her head in prison but a woman like Effie wasn't meant to have short hair, she was meant to have a luxurious mane she could flick around her shoulder at will.

"Glare at me all you want, Princess, if you took something I need to know." he said, putting a knee down because the crouching was beginning to make his legs ache.

"I didn't take _anything_." she whimpered, her glare fading away as if she couldn't be bothered to stay angry at him. "Leave me _alone_."

That was another thing that was disturbing him. He was well acquainted with the need to be left alone when sick or hurt but he couldn't resolve himself to grant her that courtesy. When she was in that state, he wanted her in his sight. Just in case.

"Let's get you to bed." he suggested again. He grabbed her arm to help her up but she curled on her side against the fence and grasped one of the wooden planks.

"No, I want to stay with the geese." Her blue eyes were glassy and she wasn't all there, he could tell. The lights were on but no one was home.

"You hate the geese, sweetheart." he reminded her. "They're full of germs and they want to eat you, remember?" It was absolutely ridiculous for a grown woman to be afraid of mere birds but he had come to accept long ago that Effie Trinket _was _ridiculous.

"They protect me." she argued, looking around her wildly as if she was searching for enemies.

"Protect you." he repeated in a flat tone of voice. "Protect you against what?"

Her eyes were frantic now, darting left and right. Her hand shot out to grab his shirt and pull him closer. "Monsters." she whispered.

"Right." How stupid of him to ask. "I can protect you better than birds, don't you think?" She blinked slowly and pulled harder on his sleeve. He considered his options carefully. He could carry her back to the house despite her protests or he could sit there and wait for the fit to end. "You still want the geese, don't you?" he sighed.

She worried her lower lips between her teeth and nodded quickly. "We're both safe, here."

Were they? There were worse places to be, he figured, as he lowered himself unto dirt and geese droppings. She snuggled against him at once, resting her head on his shoulder, neatly tucked under his chin, like she always did. "You're lucky I like you so much, Trinket." He wrapped his arms around her and leaned against the fence, getting as comfortable as he could and praying neither Katniss nor Peeta would choose that moment to pass by. He had a reputation to maintain after all.

Effie hummed quietly to that statement. She was still shaking though so he held her tighter. "I need…" she whined. "I need…" She had no words for what her body was yearning for so damn much. 'I need water' wouldn't cover it. She pressed her face against his neck and sobbed from sheer frustration. There was nothing he could do to make it better, nothing at all.

"It's going to get better." he vowed anyway. It had to. Katniss was beginning to break out of her shell, Peeta was getting better every day and even Haymitch was starting to feel alive again… Effie had to get better too, otherwise it didn't make any sense.

He stroke her hair as she cried and closed his eyes, longing for better days.


	66. December Girl

Prompt : Hi I had an idea! Could you please write up a prompt where there's a hot escort calendar which comes out every year (12 districts=12 escorts=12 months) and them all in really revealing clothes and underwear. Like, Portia or someone buys it and shows everyone who are like amazed by Effie. Then she gets really embarrassed and Haymitch is just transfixed? Thank you if you do!:)

_**December Girl **_

A lady should never show when her feet are hurting and Effie was very much a lady but those new heels were so uncomfortable she was glad for the couch in the penthouse.

"Are you sure the children will be alright on their own?" she insisted, worried despite herself. Katniss and Peeta were both being interviewed downstairs, however even though they only had to get back to the elevator and push the button to the twelfth floor after they were done… Effie wasn't truly able to stop worrying. They were old enough to do so without babysitters – as Haymitch had argued for several minutes – and they all needed a break from each other before someone committed a murder. Portia and Cinna had gone their own way as soon as the Victory Tour train had reached the Capitol with a promise to be back for dinner but Haymitch and Effie had been stuck in the Training Center most of the afternoon, directing their victors to room after room full of people who wanted to know everything there was to know about them. They had done their good share of interviews too, so when Katniss and Peeta's last interview had begun, Haymitch had suggested they headed back upstairs and Effie had been persuaded more easily than she should have.

"Leave them be." Haymitch waved her worries away, sinking on the other side of the couch with the usual glass of whiskey. "They need to get used to be on their own anyway. They will be mentors soon enough and you won't be there to babysit them."

"I have to babysit you." she objected with a huff that only made him smirk.

"I'm special." he winked. "And you wouldn't have it any other way, it helps your control freak tendencies."

She was glad for the white powder on her cheeks because it hid her blush. She didn't quite know if she was embarrassed or annoyed but her face was flaming all the same. Her mouth pinched in a hard line. "Why are you always so dead set on insulting me?"

"Because it's my only pleasure in life, Princess." he replied over the rim of his glass.

She was about to ask him – not without a sarcastic tone – what was alcohol for him if not a pleasure when Cinna arrived, interrupting what was surely to be a fight of epic proportion. Their fights always were of epic proportions after all.

"Katniss' dress is ready for the ball." the stylist reported. "All is going as planned."

"That's great news, Cinna." She gestured for him to sit down and stood herself, offering him drinks and appetizers like a good hostess. It was no use waiting for Haymitch to do it, that man had no manners. She poured him a glass of white wine and made small talk while Haymitch looked on them with growing amusement. Apparently, the fact that she felt dismayed by the impossibility to get their hand on the finest lace of Five – despite what it probably meant for the District in question – was a very good joke. Cinna's more subdued regrets were funny too if Haymitch's smirk was to be believed.

They kept on talking about lace and Cinna's latest collection she would be modeling for and Haymitch kept drinking and making inappropriate comments they were both electing to ignore. When Portia burst in the living-room like she more or less always did when she was sure only her friends were present, Effie felt relieved because she had exhausted the topic of Cinna's next fashion show and was about to fall back on the subject of his most public rival – who had, according to popular opinion, based his next collection on flames just to copy Katniss' now famous dress.

"It's here!" Portia said with an enthusiasm that could only mean one thing.

Forgetting all about her hurting feet, Effie bolted from the couch and crossed the room in three long strides. "Is it? Oh, show me!"

She almost tore the big square calendar from her friend's hands. The glazed paper was shiny and new and so, so very _exquisite_. The twelve escorts were on the cover, as was traditional, the photo was nice but she didn't lose any time with it, she turned the calendar around because the back was always reserved for that year winning District's escort. A photo of her in an elegant ball gown greeted her, all in black and white feathers that could look like a mockingjay if one was paying close attention.

"The dress is perfect." Effie breathed out, before looking up to Portia who was smiling so hard it must hurt. "Are you happy with it? They didn't let me chose the photo they would use but I made sure to tell them the dress must…"

"It's beautiful, Effie." Portia cut her off, her eyes going back to the shiny paper and the dress she had so carefully designed especially for her. "You're beautiful too, of course, but I like my dress better." She winked at her and Effie couldn't help but grin too because it was such an _honor_ to design a dress for the calendar… Cinna was well renown by now but Portia had still to make a name for herself and that would be it, Effie was _so sure_ it would be it…

"Can we see what the fuss is about or what?" Haymitch grunted from the couch. "Who's rude now, sweetheart?"

She dismissed him with a flick of her hand and put the calendar back in Portia's hands without opening it to see the rest of the photos. She trusted Alurio to have done a good job with her image and the photoshoot had gone well enough, all she had really cared about was Portia's dress really.

"Is it the calendar?" Cinna asked, leaning in curiously. "Wasn't it supposed to be out only tomorrow?"

It was tradition for the escorts calendar to be sold after the victors ball at President Snow's mansion, true enough. Effie glanced at Portia who smiled harder. "I am a woman of many talents." their friend shrugged. "There was a big box full of them and no one was watching so…"

Cinna laughed out loud at that, Haymitch looked vaguely impressed but Effie chided her half-heartedly. She felt like the only adult in the room sometimes.

"Isn't she gorgeous?" Portia prompted, perching on Cinna's armchair to show him the mockingjay-style dress.

"Are you talking about the dress or Effie?" Cinna teased but he smiled at the escort nonetheless. "You are beautiful, Effie. You did a very good job with this one."

"Oh, please, the dress did everything." she denied. "All I had to do was smile."

"And aren't you gifted for that." Haymitch snorted. "What's all this about a calendar then? How come I didn't know about that?"

"You're never in the Capitol when it comes out." she explained, leaving the rest unsaid. He wasn't in the Capitol because they had never won before. "It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal?" Portia rolled her eyes. "Of course, it's a big deal! She's just being modest, Haymitch. The calendar usually makes or kill an escort. Either they love you or they hate you, it determines how famous you are for the rest of the year." Portia's grin looked like a cat who had just caught a canary. "And the hottest escort of the year is wearing _my_ dress. There is no bigger deal." Cinna cleared his throat pointedly and Portia deflated a little. "Well, of course, there are bigger deals than that going on right now, but…"

"But it's a big opportunity for Portia and I was so happy she let me wear her dress!" Effie felt compelled to finish for her.

Haymitch stared at the stylist and then at the escort like they both had lost their minds.

"Don't let Peeta find that." Cinna joked, flipping through the pages. "It could become embarrassing pretty fast."

"Oh, now I have to see." Haymitch decided, putting his glass on the table. He outstretched a hand to Cinna who ignored him. "Give me that."

Feeling silly being the only one standing up, Effie sat back next to the mentor, preparing herself for endless teasing and probably a few insults too. "Manners, Haymitch."

"You look fantastic in the other photo too, Effie." Cinna complimented.

"True." Portia piped. "Who designed the lingerie?"

"Lingerie?" Haymitch sounded dumbfounded. "You posed in _lingerie_? Give me that, Cinna!"

He almost crushed Effie to get to Cinna who finally handed him the calendar with a smile.

"Don't make it sound like I posed for some obscene reasons. It's traditional and benefits go to charities." Effie huffed. "Plus, it's very tasteful. You can't see anything improper. I am still wearing my wig after all."

"But not much else." Cinna commented. He was only joking though and quickly added how amazing she looked.

Effie blushed. All the more so when Haymitch's eyes stopped on the picture of her in Portia's dress. "That looks like a mockingjay." he observed in a flat tone. "Did you do that on purpose?"

Effie frowned because he almost sounded angry. "It was my idea." He stopped glaring at Portia to stare at her. "Mockingjays are the latest fashion."

"It's also a statement." he said, the hand not holding the calendar curling into a fist.

"Only to a selected few." she countered, placing her own hand on his. He relaxed slightly under her touch.

"Don't do something so foolish again." he snapped anyway, turning his gaze to the stylists. "No more mockingjay dresses."

Portia and Cinna exchanged a look but stayed silent. He grumpily went back to the photo, his eyes lingering a bit too much on her cleavage but if the dress was a tad more revealing than what she usually wore, that was nothing to the themed picture inside the calendar and that made her cheeks flare all over again.

He opened the calendar to find Loffie in her January outfit and swallowed hard. Effie suppressed an angry – or maybe jealous – comment. This one was properly ridiculous but Loffie often was so she guessed everything was in order. She didn't appreciate the way he closely watched the red negligee she was wearing while rolling in piles of mistletoes. That one was tasteless.

"Which month are you?" he asked, flipping to the next month.

February and Dasily pretending to build a snowmen in pale blue panties and matching bra… Once again he looked for far too long and she tore the calendar from his hand without a second thought. "I'm Twelve escort, am I not?" she retorted in an icy voice. "I'm December, it's only logical, Haymitch." He watched her with obvious amusement as she flipped through the pages to find her own photo. She closed the calendar immediately after she found it, glaring accusingly at Cinna. "You didn't say they had chosen this one."

Cinna's lips twitched. "I did say you should keep it away from Peeta…"

"Maybe you should have said to keep it away from Haymitch." Portia added but her smile softened. "You look lovely, Effie. You have such a great body, I'm jealous."

A bit embarrassed, she thrust the calendar between herself and the armrest and put a cushion on it for good measure. "You're not seeing this picture." she decided.

Haymitch's eyebrows shot up. "Okay. One…" he snorted. "Do you really think I'm not going to take that thing back from you? And two… What's stopping me from just buying my own tomorrow?"

"Decency." she hissed. "And your friendship with me."

"Curiosity is outwinning friendship right now, sweetheart." he snickered. His hand shot around her to get the calendar back but she grabbed his arm and wedged it against her stomach so he couldn't move anymore. "Seriously, Princess? You think pressing your breasts against my arm is going to discourage me?"

Her face, she could swear, was crimson and powder wasn't doing a good job of hiding it. She didn't let go of his arm, though, not caring that he was twisted around and probably uncomfortable.

"Should we leave you two alone?" Portia giggled.

"Yes!" Haymitch roared at the same she shouted "No!"

"You are not seeing this picture, Haymitch." she scowled.

He leaned in a little, so close she could feel his breath rolling on her lips. "Wanna bet?" His breath smelt like the whiskey he had just drunk and she felt intoxicated by the vapor of alcohol. Her heart started racing for no reason and he must have felt it because he smirked slowly. He leaned further and further and she barely even heard Cinna and Portia loud and obviously embarrassed chatter through the pounding of her heart. She watched, with wide opened and slightly frightened eyes, his face coming closer until there was so little space left he had to kiss her. She closed her eyes when his mouth brushed hers.

But in the end, that's all there was: his mouth brushing against hers. Her arms had slackened and he escaped her grip. She blinked, confused and a tad mortified because Cinna and Portia_ were in the same room _not two feet awayand_ how _couldshe_ forget _somethinglike_ that_? He waved the calendar in the air in victory. She pursed her lips in irritation. "You're the most improper man I have ever met."

"If that's your way of saying I'm an asshole, you have to work on your insults, sweetheart." he snorted, flipping through the pages until he found the last month. She turned her head away, not caring to see the mocking smile that was bound to appear, and angrily folded her arms on her chest. She noticed, not without irritation, that Portia and Cinna seemed to find the whole thing hilarious.

Silence stretched for far too long and no insult was forthcoming, so Effie glanced at Haymitch but he didn't even notice. He was staring at the calendar with so much intensity she was half-afraid he would burn a whole in the shiny paper. She peeked at the picture he was watching, thinking he must have flipped to another escort but no, it was her, pouting at the camera clad in see-through golden lace that only really covered the important parts. The picture was far from being indecent and a lot less explicit than some of the other escorts' and yet it was still sexy and much more than Haymitch had ever seen of her.

"Do you want a glass of icy water, Haymitch?" Portia teased. "Or a cold shower, perhaps?"

Haymitch sent a mild glare her way before clearing his throat awkwardly, shutting the calendar close. "We definitely should keep that away from the boy." he said at last.

"Afraid he's going to make a pass at Effie?" Cinna joked, eyes twinkling with mirth. "She _is _gorgeous on those pictures, after all."

"You're a dear but stop it." Effie requested, feeling embarrassed. Although, to be fair, it was more the way Haymitch was looking at her than Cinna's praises that was making her want to dig a hole and hide. "I should go and freshen up before the children get back." she said already standing up. "If you will excuse me."

She fled to her room with as much dignity as she could. She felt better once she had splashed some cold water on her burning cheeks, she felt more in control. She removed the now smudged make-up that had started to hitch anyway and stared thoughtfully at her clean face in the bathroom mirror. She should wait a few minutes before applying new powder, just to let her skin breathe. She wasn't particularly alarmed when she heard her bedroom door open and close.

"I swear, Portia, you always add fuel to the fire!" she exclaimed, getting out of the bathroom with her hands on her hips and a stern expression on her face. She froze when she saw Haymitch awkwardly standing there. "You're not Portia."

Her stupid comment made his awkwardness go away. "What gave it away, sweetheart? The lack of heels?" he snorted, before throwing the calendar on her bed. "You forgot that."

"I thought Portia would want to keep it." she retorted, glancing at everything in her room but him.

"Why? She likes to look at sexy pictures of you?" He stepped closer and she instinctively stepped backward. "I've never seen you like this."

"That's because I don't usually walk around in my underwear." she replied, rolling her eyes at his stupidity.

"Yeah, well, maybe you should." He took another step closer but she stood her ground this time. "But I meant without that shit on your face." Fingers brushed hesitantly against her cheek and she yelped in realization.

She pressed her hands against her face and turned around. "Go away!" she shrieked. "I'm _hideous_! I'm not fit to be seen!"

"You're afraid to be hideous the only time you don't look like a clown, yeah, right…" She could practically _hear_ the eye roll.

It made her so angry she forgot about the way she looked, Haymitch was always making fun of her anyway. She turned around and glared. "I _don't_ look like a clown. I am _fashionable_, thank you very much."

"Your fashion is stupid." he shrugged, before waving at her face. "Hiding that, it's a crime. You actually look pretty under all that crap."

"Fashion isn't stupid." she hissed, pointing an accusing finger at his chest. "If someone is stupid here… Wait." She frowned. "Did you just pay me a compliment?"

"Don't get used to it." he grumbled, taking a step back to avoid being stabbed by her sharp nail. He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck, looking down, and that was such an uncharacteristic behavior that made her pause.

"Are you acting this way because of that picture?" she asked, nodding to the forgotten calendar.

"No." he denied but his eyes betrayed him. The way he was looking at her right then… It was ravenous and greedy and she had to suppress a shiver of desire.

She studied him for a few seconds and then walked to her dressing table with deliberate slowness. Those heels might be killing her feet but they sure did make her legs look endless. "Are you sure?" She took out pin after pin holding her wig in place seemingly absent-mindedly. That wasn't a move she would have tried on anyone else because who wanted to see a woman with her natural hair? But Haymitch wasn't Capitol and given how he had reacted to her absence of make-up, she didn't think he would be repulsed by her strawberry blond hair.

"What are you doing?" His voice sounded strained and that made her smile.

"Freshening up." she replied innocently, taking off the last pin. She put it on the dresser with a pout. "Why? Does it bother you?"

"Don't start something you don't want to finish." he growled.

She slid a hand under her wig, at her nape, careful not to wreck it. She had spent _hours_ styling that complicated bun. "I always finish what I start, Haymitch." She didn't have time to take it off. In two strides, he was on her, a hand gripping her wrist to stop her, the other clutching her waist. His face was close to hers again, so close all she would have to do was to lean in a little and…

"Stop being a tease." he warned. "You don't want to play with me, Effie."

She licked her lips instinctively. "Oh, I think I _really_ do." She pressed against him to lightly kiss his jaw, rejoicing in his sharp intake of breath. "That picture didn't really do me justice, you know." she murmured against his ear. "I can be much, _much_ sexier…" She was high with power and dimly aware she was playing with fire but she couldn't care less. There were good reasons they never crossed the line and none of those was lack of desire. They all seemed stupid right then though, she could think of nothing else but the way he was staring at her, she wanted nothing else but his mouth on hers and his hands on her body, she _needed_ it.

His hand stopped gripping her wrist to slide slowly under the wig and she knew he had given up on reason too. Soon enough, she felt her hair tumbling on her shoulders and he brushed his fingers through the strands reverently. "You're beautiful." he whispered against his better judgment. "You're so beautiful…"

Something melted in her chest. Nobody had ever told her she looked beautiful when she wasn't wearing a wig or make-up before. Capitol men didn't want natural, they wanted artfully constructed beauty or fantasy came true. "You're only saying that because you want to get into my bed." she joked and he frowned.

"I'm saying that because it's true, just like I say you usually look like a clown." he replied. She opened her mouth to debate the point but he kissed her into silence. It was soft at first but it didn't stay that way. It grew heated and messy and he lifted her so she was sitting of the dresser. It was too low and impractical but she still used the opportunity to get rid of his shirt before unzipping her dress because she didn't trust him with such a delicate thing. He grunted when she pushed him away to step out of it but he stopped complaining once she stood in front of him in her red panties and bra.

"Should I reconsider walking around in my underwear?" she teased, absolutely loving the way he was staring at her body.

He pushed her unto the bed and attacked her throat with his mouth, hands roaming all over her. "I don't share." he growled against her skin. His teeth would leave marks but… she didn't care.

"No?" she asked breathlessly, coiling a hand around his neck to kiss him again. They kissed like they fought and that was glorious. He took control of the kiss at some point and it became painfully slow, she moaned in sheer frustration but when their eyes met afterwards it felt all the more significant.

"No." he simply said. And, somehow, she understood that it wasn't an answer to her stupid little joke but a statement. He wouldn't share, that wasn't a one-time thing, that wasn't simply him being turned on by an idiotic calendar… It was about them.

"Alright then." she grinned.

* * *

_AN: Just to be clear because Akachankami asked while correcting, when I say the calendar is for charities what I really mean is the governement says it's for charity but it pays for the ball at Snow's Mansion XD (ergo why it comes out the day after the feast) but obviously Effie wouldn't actually know that. _


	67. Miracle

Prompt : Hi! If you're still taking prompts, can you write about Effie discovering she's pregnant but she doesn't know how to announce that to Haymitch, please? Love your work!

_**Miracle**_

She had barely closed the door before Haymitch shouted her name with enough distress that she quickly hanged her purse and jacket on the coat rack and rushed to the living-room. She was expecting more or less anything, with Haymitch, you could always count on a catastrophe – he had managed to put her lovely pink curtain on fire once and although he swore that was an accident, Effie was more prone to believe Katniss' theory about him really not liking the color and _accidentally_ projecting embers on them to get rid of them.

The living-room wasn't in flames – which she counted as a victory – but it was a lot more messy than it was when she had left for her appointment. There were toys everywhere, furniture wasn't in its usual place and Haymitch was clearly out of depth, sitting on the couch, hands outstretched in front of the one year old who was tottering here and there. Haymitch didn't even look up when she arrived, he never once stopped watching the child.

"They left their daughter with you." She didn't even try to fight the smile. Haymitch was wiped for Katniss and Peeta's child, it was no secret and a source of great amusement to them all, but he had never _ever_ volunteered to babysit before. One on one time with the baby girl was a big no in his book.

"You said you wouldn't be gone long." he snapped. "Katniss had to go, she didn't _exactly _give me a choice." He chanced a glance at her but quickly went back to stare at the child. "She said she would flay me alive if I took my eyes off her or if I drank a single glass before you came back."

She swallowed back her laughter knowing he wouldn't appreciate it. "Why didn't you put up the playpen?" She gestured to the colorful plastic laying down next to an open bag full of toys. Well… The toys that weren't already all around her living-room anyway.

"I don't like the idea of fencing children in." he shrugged, picking up the plastic toy the girl had just thrown at his head and handling it back.

There was a whole world of problems in that mere statement but now wasn't the time to tackle them, Effie thought. Her day had been too strange and too surreal so far for her to try and convince Haymitch that playpens weren't mini-arenas. He had obviously done a decent job at babysitting so far – which surprised her but it probably wouldn't be very kind to say that aloud – despite the mess in her usually spotless living-room. She went to sit on the couch, patting the girl's head on her way.

Haymitch frowned at her unusual behavior but she pretended not to notice. Were it any other day, she would have hugged the child and doted on her until Katniss or Peeta came by to pick her up… However, it wasn't any other day and she felt sick and stressed and she would have preferred for the children to come and get their daughter quickly. She didn't need a toddler in front of her at that precise moment as much as she loved her.

She felt as if her whole world was about to collapse and she didn't know if she was thrilled or dead terrified. One second she was so happy her heart could burst, the next all she wanted was to crawl in her bed, have a good cry and deny everything.

"Everything's alright with you, sweetheart?" Haymitch asked, once she was sitting next to him.

She didn't answer right away. She picked up a stuffed bear and the cute stuffed rabbit she had bought the child and arranged them on the coffee table before sitting properly, back straight and ankles crossed, exactly as she hardly ever did anymore. This was ingrained behavior from her childhood : when you feel awkward, act like a lady. She had left most of that behind with her heavy make-up and wigs when she had left the Capitol after the rebellion though.

It had felt like running away at the time, not just from a Capitol she couldn't recognize anymore but from herself too. The old Effie had died in their prison and it had been tough to find herself back. When Peeta had offered her his guest room, she had accepted and had started over in Twelve. It had taken a long time, years really, but she loved the life she was living now. She had Haymitch, she had the children and their daughter to spoil, she had a fancy job in the Justice Building and she even had a few friends who were willing to look beyond her past as an escort – the fact that she had been imprisoned and tortured during the rebellion helped. Her life, right now, was far from what she had imagined it would be but she loved it nonetheless. There were practically no more nightmares or panic attacks, Haymitch was drinking a lot less those days, it wasn't perfect but it was good.

And she felt like running away again. Except that wasn't something you could run away from, she would only take the problem with her.

She immediately felt guilty for thinking of that as a problem.

"Yes, of course." she said mechanically. The child stumbled to her, waving a wooden toy in her little chubby hands and she smiled despite herself.

When the doctors had told her she wouldn't ever been able to have children, after she got rescued, she hadn't felt anything. It had just been another information on a pile of bad news and there had been more urgent matters than eventual children she wasn't even sure she wanted. She hadn't been crushed by the idea, she hadn't been inconsolable, she hadn't felt _anything_. During Katniss' pregnancy, there had been a tinge of envy for something she would never get to experience for herself but she had scratched that in the bud. Haymitch didn't want children and they were too old for that anyway. Who had a child at nearly forty-one?

Well, Effie apparently.

Despite the odds that never were in their favor.

She rubbed a hand against her stomach absent-mindedly. She had been feeling sick for days so she had finally listened to Peeta's worried requests – because Katniss and Haymitch could be as blind as you couldn't believe sometimes – and she had gone to the doctors. She had expected some illness or maybe consequences of her time in prison that hadn't been picked on earlier, not… She had really _not_ expected the doctor to tell her she was with child.

The whole thing was…

"Where were you, then?" Haymitch asked casually, sprawling against his side of the couch. If sitting like a proper lady was her battle stance, acting careless was his. "You said you needed a new dress but I don't see shopping bags."

She cringed a bit and grabbed the child. She felt better once she was sitting on her lap, happily trying to throw her toy at Haymitch's head. Haymitch picked it up and handed it back every time with a surprising amount of patience. Effie shouldn't have lied to him. She should have told him she was going back to the hospital but she had just gone there the week before for all sorts of tests – because when they had asked if she could be pregnant, she had immediately said no and so they had jabbed and nudged and interrogated her until she had felt sick – and she hadn't wanted him to worry until she knew exactly what she was suffering from.

"I didn't go shopping." she confessed, avoiding the grabby hands that wanted to play with her hair. Katniss' daughter had a thing of her hair, she liked to pull on it.

"Yeah, I got that." Haymitch snorted. He didn't ask again where she had been but the question was implied and Effie found herself stalling for time.

She didn't know how to tell him, she didn't know how to explain and she absolutely didn't know how he would react. Well… That was a lie. He was going to be angry about it and throw a fit probably, perhaps drink himself into oblivion. She almost wished she could do the same. That was another thing : she didn't know how she felt. She was stunned and confused and _she didn't know how she felt_. Wasn't she supposed to love her child as soon as she was aware it was there?

"Effie, if you're going to leave me, you just say it." Haymitch said, not looking her in the eyes. He was staring at the child in her lap. "You should pour me a drink first, though. Manners and all that crap you're always muttering about."

"I don't _mutter_." she huffed. "And I don't plan on leaving you even though I can't guarantee _you _won't leave _me _before the day is gone."

He wouldn't, would he? He wouldn't dare to leave her with a child growing in her belly? He wouldn't abandon her ? Because she was fairly sure she didn't want to go through all that without him. In another life, she could have. Before the rebellion she had been a strong independent woman and proud to be and while she knew she could survive on her own if she had to, she _needed_ Haymitch. Nothing kept the nightmares and the horrid memories away like his embrace did. Nobody infuriated her more than him. Nobody loved her more than he did.

"I didn't leave you when you looked like a clown, sweetheart, I think I can promise I'm not going to do it now." He rolled his eyes. "Spill it out. It can't be that bad." She bit her lower lip thoughtfully which told him everything he needed to know. "Or it can." Haymitch sighed, rubbing his face. "Stop using that poor kid as a shield before her head pops and Katniss kills you." he snapped and then softened a bit. "Come on, Princess, tell me."

She realized she had been hugging the girl a bit too tight and put her back down. The child didn't lose a second before heading to the bag of toys. She was quick for a small human being on wobbly legs. She was quick and Effie and Haymitch were old… A vivid image of them outrun by a toddler flashed through Effie's mind.

"I was at the hospital." There. That part was easy.

"You went there last week." he countered at once.

She stopped watching the girl who was playing with another stuffed animal to look at him. He was staring at her with obvious concern. "Yes." she confirmed. "You might want to have that drink now."

It would soothe part of his anxieties away and a relaxed Haymitch would be better, she figured. He waved her suggestion away, however, reaching out for her hand. He would never have done that if he hadn't been really worried and that made her feel horrible because if she could just get the news out already… "How bad is it?"

"I'm not sick." she said quickly, feeling even more guilty when relief washed all over his face. "It's… I am…" She winced. "Are you sure you don't want a drink?"

He knew her too well to be so easily distracted. He frowned and gently tugged on a strand of her hair. "What are you afraid of?" There was nothing but concern in his grey eyes, concern and that calculating spark that told her he would puzzle everything together before too long if she didn't tell him soon. What was she afraid of? She was afraid of losing everything she had.

She kissed him. A real kiss. In a way you probably shouldn't kiss someone in front of a child. A kiss that left them breathless but that helped her feel a little more grounded.

"I will tell you once the children are back." she decided. "You're going to shout and the baby doesn't need to hear that."

"I'm not waiting, you're telling me right now." he retorted. "Who says I'm going to shout anyway?"

"My experience in dealing with you." She stood and went to crouch next to the child. She busied herself by helping her empty the bag of toys. The living-room was already a mess anyway.

"Effie." he growled, getting up too. The child looked up at him, unused to him talking so harshly in her presence, and then waived her arms. He picked her up automatically. Effie could remember a time when he was afraid of carrying her but those fears had gone away slowly and he didn't even have to think twice now. It gave a tiny fluttering second of hope but she wasn't _their_ child, it was totally different for him to accept caring about a baby and to have one of his own… It had been hard enough for him to just _accept_ he had feelings for Effie… Haymitch had lost everyone he loved once and she knew he was still terrified of that happening again despite everything they had done to ensure that Panem would be a safe place.

And yet, she couldn't look away from Haymitch and the baby girl. She let herself imagine the girl was blond rather than dark-haired and with the same grey eyes as Haymitch… She let herself imagine and it was her downfall because she started _feeling_ then. If she hadn't been sure that she wanted the child before, she sure as hell was now. Her hand flew to her stomach again. It was instinctive really but that small gesture betrayed her.

"No." Haymitch said, flat out.

"Yes." she breathed out, adverting her eyes.

There was a heavy silence that the child's babbling barely covered. "But you can't…" Haymitch started only to stop, at a loss for words. She could count the number of times that had happened on one hand.

"They said it's a miracle." She walked to the window and stared outside pointedly, not wanting to see the rejection in his eyes. Her hand found her stomach again. A miracle… She liked the idea. They didn't have much in terms of miracles in the past. "It should be impossible but… It happened anyway."

"Yeah, thank you, sweetheart, I know what miracle means." he snapped.

She winced but didn't tell him off for raising his voice : he had every right to be upset, after all she had been too at first. She was relieved when she spied her friend coming up the front lane.

"Katniss is here." she warned.

"Good." He was out before she could say more. She saw him handing the child to her mother, through the window, they exchanged a few words but that was it. Katniss and her daughter went back to their house and Haymitch slammed the front door shut once he was inside. She folded her arms protectively over her chest and waited for him to come back to the living-room. When he did, he had a glass of whiskey in his hand. She didn't quite dare tell him now wasn't the time to drink anymore.

"Do you want me to go?" she whispered, fighting the tears that were starting to gather in her eyes. She didn't mean forever. She didn't think she could bear the thought. She loved their home and she loved him but if he needed space she could give it to him. And if she didn't want their child then…

"Go where?" he shrugged. "It won't change anything, will it?"

"I didn't do it on purpose." She felt defensive all of a sudden. "I didn't try to…"

"I know." he cut her off harshly, before closing his eyes and obviously trying to remain calm. "I know." he repeated more softly.

She wanted to run to him, throw her arms around his neck and never let go ever again. She sat back down on the couch and worried her hands in her lap.

"I'm scared." she confessed, eyes riveted to her red-painted nails.

"Yeah?" He put the glass on the coffee table and sat next to her. "Of what?"

"I'm scared of losing you." She blinked the tears away. "I'm scared we're too old for this. I'm scared we're going to get our hopes up only to lose the baby in a month. I'm scared we won't be good parents. I'm scared I…"

"Lot of stupid things to be scared about." he scoffed. "This is my house, I'm not going anywhere and it isn't big enough you can lose me in it."

"Stop joking!" she hissed. "I'm being serious."

"You often confuse serious with ridiculous, Effie." He rolled his eyes and pulled on her wrist until she was safely trapped in his arms. "I won't lie to you and say I'm happy." She pressed her face against his shoulder because he was breaking her heart. "Sweetheart, don't…" he sighed. "Just let me get used to the idea, alright?"

"You don't want children." she objected.

"I didn't want someone in my life either but you're here and we're not doing too bad, are we?" He held her tighter and rested his head on top of hers. "Never thought about it, to be honest. Children, I mean." He shrugged. "Games are over… It should be safe enough on that front."

"What are the other fronts?" she asked.

"Having an alcoholic disturbed murderer as a father." He kept his voice light on purpose but she could tell he was serious.

"It can't be worse than having a former escort obsessed with manners as a mother." she joked. Or she tried to anyway.

"That kid is fucked." Haymitch snickered.

"_Language_." she chided him automatically, settling more comfortably against him. Now that she was sure he wasn't going to bolt away, not yet anyway, she felt a tad better. She touched her stomach again wondering at what point she would start feeling her baby and already planning a trip to the bookstore. She needed to be prepared. She needed to do some research.

She was a bit surprised when his hand covered her hesitantly. "What if I can't protect you?"

"I'm a tough woman, Haymitch, I don't need you to protect me." She had survived months in prison on her own after all. She appreciated and craved Haymitch's protective side but if she had to, she could manage on her own.

"I meant you and the kid." he rushed out. "What if I can't protect the kid? What if something happens and…"

"Nothing will happen." she promised, even though she couldn't know for sure. That was one thing she had learned the hard way : you never knew. "We have Peeta and Katniss to help us. Johanna and Annie too… And I won't let _anybody_ touch a hair on my child's head. Just watch me."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Over my dead body." His thumb stroke her stomach softly. "See? We will be the worst parents ever but the kid will be safe. Nothing to worry about."

She giggled in answer, feeling more and more relaxed. She closed her eyes, intending to take a nap right where she was. Peeta would come to get the toys eventually and she had every intention of making him and Haymitch put her living-room back into its original clean state but that would require energy. She was starting to doze off when Haymitch's voice startled her awake.

"The kids are going to laugh their ass off." he grunted.

She told him off for his language but she knew he was right.

And, as later proved to be the case, he was.


	68. Vigil

Please carry on understanding! It is so good please can you carry it on? I know your probably have tons of prompts though x

_Understanding was Chapter 39 :) Although to be fair, I think this one is my worst one ever. I wasn't much inspired sorry. _

_**Vigil**_

Finnick dragged a chair from the other side of the room and sat on the side of the bed that wasn't cluttered up by beeping machines and Haymitch. Thirteen's medical wing wasn't the most welcoming, the wall, the floor, the ceiling… Everything was white and it made him feel like all the colors had been stuck of the world and left a huge void behind. White was a crueler color than white in his opinion, white was the absence of everything.

Effie was very white.

Her skin was pale to the point of being almost transparent, her blond hair was lank, the white blouse they had put her in didn't improved the matter in any way. He couldn't remember ever seeing Effie wearing white. She was always a bundle of colors.

"How is she?" he asked Haymitch quietly.

He had never seen Haymitch as worn out either. It was more than just the stress of the rebellion, it was Peeta and Katniss – whose present predicaments he was responsible for – it was Coin's growing mercilessness, it was Effie's unknown whereabouts… He had been looking for her for months, Finnick knew, although not because the older man had told him. Haymitch hadn't been talking to him since they had arrived in Thirteen. Haymitch hadn't been talking to many people, even his friends – he knew that too because Twelve's victor didn't have many of those left and now that Chaff was gone, Finnick was probably the closest he had; after Effie that was.

Earlier on the hovercraft landing ground, for a minute he had thought Effie was dead and that it would be the last straw for Haymitch. He had thought that she would be the loss that would finally break him for good. That was the thing with Haymitch… Losing his family had shattered him, losing tribute after tribute had brought him down, but he had never truly broken. He was just damaged like they all were. But Effie's death… Finnick was sure Effie's death would do it just like he was sure Annie's death would kill him.

"Not good." Haymitch rasped out at last, his eyes never swaying from the escort's sleeping figure. "She should make it. They said she should…" He let his sentence trailed off and Finnick didn't insist. "She's been tortured."

And that was their fault, Finnick thought. They should have taken more precautions, made sure she would be safe… "She didn't know anything." he said, sick to his stomach. Annie, at least, had been left alone. "They should have realized and…"

"They did." Haymitch shrugged. "It wasn't about her."

It was about Haymitch. It was about punishing him, hurting him through the only person they had their hands on… Had they know how much she meant to him? Was that why they took her in the first place? They must have known… Anybody could have picked up on the chemistry between them.

"It's not your fault." Finnick lied because that was what friends did sometimes. They lied to make you feel better. Wasn't that precisely what they had done to Effie? Keeping her in the dark and promising her time and time again that they knew what they were doing? "She's safe now, that's all that counts."

"Safe for how long?" Haymitch snorted. "You know Coin's going to throw a fit sooner or later."

"And when that happens you will stand up for her." Finnick said. "And so will Johanna, Annie and I. I'm sure your Mockingjay will be glad to help too." He forced a grin on his lips. "Nobody touch our Trinket, Haymitch."

Haymitch's sullen eyes turned from Effie to him, they were bitter. "Except for the Capitol apparently."

"Haymitch…" Finnick sighed, rubbing his face. He wanted to be out of there all of a sudden. The atmosphere in this room was oppressive and it made him yearn for the sea. That was his greatest wish at the moment : feel the rolling waves on his sun-kissed skin and swim until he couldn't see the shore anymore.

"They had to sedate her." Haymitch explained. "She kept screaming my name, calling me for help even though I was right here… What's if she's… What's if she's not totally there anymore?"

What is she had gone crazy he meant and Finnick almost laughed out loud at that one because who was he to answer that? He was in love with a person who was insane half of the time but she had already been like that when he had started to fall… He knew what he was going in for. Annie wasn't Effie.

"What of it?" Finnick taunted, a bit disgusted by what Haymitch was suggesting. "You want to get a new toy because your last one isn't perfect anymore?"

Haymitch didn't move but Finnick got the impression he was restraining himself from bolting out of his chair and jumping on him to beat the shit out of him.

"Effie is _not_ a toy." Twelve's victor growled so low Finnick barely heard him. "Say that again and I kill you."

It wasn't an empty threat, friends or not. It was never an empty threat when you were dealing with a victor. "So you're _not _going to leave her even if she's gone cuckoo?" he lifted an eyebrow in challenge, making sure to keep his voice light.

"Don't play stupid, Finnick." Haymitch spat. "She's mine to protect. I failed once, it's on me. I'm not going to let anything happen to her again."

Finnick lift his arms and let them fall. "There you go, then. Problem solved." He got up, knowing Haymitch didn't really wanted him here in the first place. He wanted to be alone with Effie and Finnick could understand that, he had just wanted to know how she was doing. "Take care of her."


End file.
